![]() There was barely anyone on the streets as it was, the shaman-infested kenku city of Medamu famous for taking advantage of the night to do sacred rituals to their goddess, Sidastrea. Like anyone would be able to see him if he didn’t want them to. Link held up a hand to motion him to silence and Fattus Cattus tried not to roll his eyes. “Are you sure this is where the kenku is now?” asked Fattus. ![]() Beside him, a bard with a red jacket and finely tuned lute strung behind his back crouched down and looked around the bend. Player klib windows#Even without the foul berries, the sickly scent of potions wafted through open windows and made his stomach turn. He wiped clean his diamond claws, leaning against a thickly-grown gingko tree that had been grown into an alchemist’s laboratory. Those who had showed promise no longer had a place to develop their skills, wasted in small town bureaucracies and swallowed up by small time smuggling operations. Who could they turn to? Leaders were few and far between. A feeling that the ground had been swallowed up beneath them. ![]() Ever since the High Council had disbanded, there had been a sensation of breathlessness amidst the Isles. It kept him sharp.Īnd he needed to be sharper than ever. Fattus Cattus didn’t mind the strange atmosphere. Maybe it was that azure ring in the sky that changed the hue of the night sky or the quieter streets under curfew, but the shadows seemed longer beneath the flickering streetlamps, the sudden movement of a rabbit bounding between tree-grown homes more alarming. ![]() The nights grew darker with each passing year. ![]()
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