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Chapter VII: Revelations

Date: October 12th (Sunday), year 3321
Location: Village of Haven, the Frostback Mountains
Weather: Cloudy, bright, and cold, with occasional gusts of colder wind.


  • Around 10:00 h
    The Blazing Hearth


    The roaring heat of the fire seemed to welcome the old thief, engulfing him as he took his seat. The tables seemed to be set at just the perfect distance from the hearth; any closer and the warmth would have been overbearing. As it was, it set about pleasantly banishing the final vestiges of the cold that had seeped into him during the march. But by then, Asher's attention was fully on the shadow elf and the two men that were sitting at the next table over.

    Upon closer inspection, the men seemed to be nervously fidgeting with their drinks rather than just drinking and making conversation. Just as their clothing suggested, they couldn't have been locals - all three spoke with a southern accent.

    "Still no sign of them," one said as he put down his mug and cast a glance at the door.

    "They'll be here," the shadow elf replied, much more composed. He was drinking menya out of a tall glass - an elven specialty drink that was uncommon in the North.

    "They're half a day overdue," the man grumbled. "What if they couldn't find Garth.. Garthok? Garthak? Whats-his-name?"

    "Garokh," the elf calmly corrected him. "And they'll be here, with or without him. The weather must have slowed them down."

    The second man nodded, having just taken a swig of wine. "True that. Another storm came down over the Grey Mountains, did it not? Winter be early this year."

    The first man seemed to accept this as a valid argument, sighing heavily.

    That was when a new figure appeared, standing tall over Asher. The barkeep. His cheeks were a little too red, as if he'd been sampling his own supply. "What'll you have, stranger? And welcome to Haven," he greeted him in a heavy northern accent. "A stiff drink and some food, perhaps? Or do you need boarding as well?"
 
Carn Barley

- The Iron Wall -


At mention of the dragon, Carn’s placid countenance stiffened into its usual cold expression. It was quite obvious that the memories had made themselves known again, but while they did influence his reaction, it was not caused entirely by the trauma. What accompanied was a sense of guilt. He'd allowed himself to get distracted again, choosing his infatuations over his friend. That fact sent a twinge of guilt ringing throughout him, which what caused him to speak.

“Yes… we do,” Carn muttered as he tilted his gaze down at the woman. He then spoke a bit more audibly, if not more coldly. “If you don’t mind, is it fine if we can go in?”
 
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The woman got noticeably quieter at Carn's sudden change of attitude. She almost appeared to shrink, like a mouse before a dragon. When she spoke, she lacked her earlier confidence and brightness.

"W-Why, of course," she stammered a little. "Go right in... As I've said, you'll find Master Renhart inside. Enjoy your stay in Haven!"

That said, she nodded respectfully and made her way along the side of the path of stumps (given how Carn and Auri were both quite the obtacles on the way), and then quietly slipped out of the garden and started down the snowy path back to the village proper.
 



Maggie had been about to ask the young woman about the dragon, but she clearly had somewhere else to be right then, so she just shrugged. Someone else would no doubt be able to answer, if not to their group, then to one of the others. As Violet passed her on the path, the priestess reached out to catch her sleeve momentarily, and quickly said, softly so as not to upset Carn further, "It's not you, he lost friends to the dragon." Then she stepped back, tucking her hands back into her pockets, and waited for the larger two of her trio, or at least Carn, to precede her into the healer's residence. Given his sudden change of mood, she was sure he would want to enter as soon as may be.
 
Auri Grashaal the Insatiable

- Drakkar Ambassador to Asgard -


Auri tried to move out of Violet's way. He nodded and smiled his thanks to Violet as she made her way onward. He had genuinely appreciated her help and had wanted to say something to her, but the moment had passed and it was more important to him that Maggie have her say with Violet than Auri his.

This business done, what else was there to do but continue inside? Auri looked to Carn. "Shall we?" Auri politely opened the door for Maggie and Carn to enter.
 
Carn Barley

- The Iron Wall -


Upon seeing the young woman shrinking back before him, a second heap of guilt piled atop him, cursing him for his lack of social ability. That emotion physically translated to him becoming a looming statue, its body unmoving while the head followed the young woman as she began to leave. In that moment, Carn noticed Maggie catching the woman and whispering to her words that were covered by the wind. Immediately, his mind filled the gaps with child-like whispers, but he quickly swatted them down and shifted his gaze elsewhere, anywhere, landing himself in the mountains again. What felt like minutes was actually only a few seconds when Auri’s gaze fell upon Carn and the old wizard said,
"Shall we?"
Carn looked without nodding. When the door had been opened, a soft, inviting glow of a crackling fireplace fell upon Carn as a warm, familiar draft of a bittersweet air wafted over him, the combination of which made him relax almost entirely. A very warm welcome indeed when one’s senses had been dulled by the cold, it would be a waste to ruin it by inviting the frost in as well. So, without comment, Carn briskly walked into the house.
 



"Some mulled wine will be fine. I'm just passing through on my way to a relative, so I won't be staying."

Asher added a small lie to throw anyone in hearing range off, while hoping the barkeep would not try and make small talk.

Overhearing what the group said, Asher decided it would be best to rest here a while longer, to see if the person called "Garokh" would come soon.

"Make it a jug.", Said Asher finishing his order, but it occurred to him that he might as well inquire about some protection from the cold,

"Also my fur coat was torn during my travel, where could I buy a new one?"
 
Date: October 12th (Sunday), year 3321
Location: The Frostback Mountains
Weather: Cloudy, bright, and cold, with occasional gusts of colder wind.


  • Around 10:00 h
    The Blazing Hearth Inn, Village of Haven



    If his aim had been to avoid small talk, Asher had another thing coming.

    "Just on your way to see a relative?" the red-cheeked barkeep's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's a mighty fine detour you've taken, then, off the beaten path! Though you wouldn't be the first to come here for the scenery..." the man frowned a little, as if pondering that thought. At length he added: "Unless... Your relative's one of them recluses... hermits, mountain men? What do they call them? There's a few of those up in the Frostbacks, aye. I'd know. Well, no matter how much they value their privacy, they all end up coming here for supplies, sooner or later. Where else would they go? Ha ha!" he chuckled mightily at that, looking satisfied. "Ah, yes," the man seemed to finally remember Asher's question, "There's a fine shop for such things right here in the village center. Coats, jackets, furs and all. At fair prices as well, though it'll always be cheaper to mend what you've already got... Simply head down the way you came, you can't miss it. Surprised you didn't see it on your way in! Are you looking for anything else while you're here?"

    It was somewhat difficult to truly follow the conversation at the next table while in the company of the lively barkeep, but it seemed to revolve around the same topic. The men seemed nervous about the tardiness of the rest of their party, while the elf calmly offered reassurances.
 
Ingvar Sindram
- Seeker of the Maker -​

Whereas most of their company largely congregated around the struggling flames of the campfire and what meagre comfort its warmth could offer them against the cold, one diminutive figure wrapped in furs was among the few that lingered at the cliff edge to ponder on the journey ahead (for most of them, not without a small trace of bitterness in their voices). Under the thick hood, one could see a roughly-knotted grey beard under which a pair of cracked lips parted in a sigh of wonder. As if oblivious to the icy winds, the figure pulled the hood back to look with an unobscured, ice-blue gaze upon the phenomenal sight beyond the cliff.

'O great Creator... truly, how awesome are the works of your hands,' Ingvar breathed.

It was not the first time he had seen the Frostback Mountains, but this did not diminish his sense of wonder as he beheld the scene before him. The towering mountains that loomed over them through the breaks in the snow-flecked gales and low-hanging clouds were as carved spires of ice and stone. Peaks honed and sharpened like spearheads of flint, sheer drops cleaved from the frozen cliffs, polished glaciers set like veins of precious stone into the crests and slopes of the mountain face - wherever he looked, Ingvar saw stupendous monuments of inimitable craftsmanship and impossible scale.

'It just goes on and on'. The words of his companion nearby may have been spoken in resentment, but for the old dwarf they held a breathtaking truth - the frozen landscape did indeed go on and on, deep into the unreachable horizon, so far that mortal minds barely registered a sliver of its scope, and mortal eyes a mere glimpse of its unending vistas. Who but the Creator could have even begun to conceive of such design?

That said, it is a wee bit chilly.

Gathering his furs about him, Ingvar tramped through the snow with measured, well-practised steps towards one of the campfires. He unloaded his large pack from his shoulders and settled himself beside between one of the human Southerners and the Drakkar called Faron, one of the rare familiar faces on this mission. While the dwarf's usual instinct was to engage in conversation with those he was less familiar with, this particular human looked very similar to another Southerner on the hunting party - he wanted to say Harris (because he looked like a Harris), but he was certain at least one of the two similar-looking humans was called Varo, which was very confusing. In a bid to avoid a mutually awkward interaction with said human, he instead turned to Faron and said in his deep, quiet voice, 'Well, nothing like a good fire to drive the chill from the bones. Still a ways to go, but... hm, how are we all holding up? Also, do you know this man's name - it's on the tip of my tongue, truly, but I just can't place it.'

Harris. Wait, Varo. No, I shall go with Harris. Or Egbert? Ohh... now it feels like it could be Egbert...
 
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Carn Barley

- The Iron Wall -


Though he’d been here before, the interior seemed entirely different. Of course, everything was much the same as it was since, but now that circumstances were more favorable, the warmness of the room truly dawned on Carn. Though, in that brief peace, Carn noticed something, or someone, was missing. His worries hadn’t the time to fully materialize when a door he hadn’t noticed opened, revealing a familiar face. It was Horn.

"Hello there!" he said in a noticeably less thick northern accent, immediately recognizing one of his visitors. "Carn! You're back! And with friends, I see!"

Upon being greeted by Horn, what covered those little shreds of doubt was relief. The healer's cordial welcome had to mean that Aron was fine. However, when Horn’s expression grew dour, that seemed not to be the case. So then Carn’s peace slowly ebbed away as doubt began to resurface.

“...How’s Aron?” Carn quietly asked, the worry oozing from his question. Carn looked around the room, and upon realizing Aron was nowhere to be seen, Carn added, in a more grim tone, “Where is he?”
 



Maggie offered the healer a warm smile. If he was anything like his house, and most people were, he was someone she thought she'd like to call friend. Everything here was welcoming and homey, and she almost wished they could stay for a while. "Hello," she replied. 'You must be Master Renhart. I'm Maggie, a priestess of the Maker." She followed Carn's glance, and noted his concern as well as Horn's. "We came to see Carn's friend, and cannot stay very long after that, but you look worried about something. Is it something we can help with?" Her smile didn't get bigger (that would have been inappropriate in the face of his concern), but it was friendly all the same. "If I can help, I will," she offered.
 
Auri Grashaal the Insatiable

- Drakkar Ambassador to Asgard -


Auri was content to stand back and let Carn and Maggie do the talking. His eyes could not help but examine the rows of books on the bookshelves. What a struggle it must be to educate oneself in a place as far out as Haven? The wizard in Auri wanted to know. In addition, he also found himself looking around the room for any evidence of what might have happened to Carn's friend. Evidence did not carry with it the emotional burdens and trickeries supplied by living beings; either something was there or it was not. Even in the cases of the deceased, the old saying, "dead men tell no tales" was anything but true. So what of missing men?

Still, it was unbecoming not to introduce oneself upon entering the premises of another. "You may call me... Mister Roundabout. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Renhart." Auri bowed respectfully to the healer and was further content to let Carn and Maggie do the talking. Though this be a seeming ally of Carn's, Auri did not feel right giving his name in Haven and perhaps in places beyond. The mere mention of it could well lead to questions like, "What is a drakkar ambassador doing here?" "Did Carn leave Haven to bring him along for his own purposes?" And so forth. Better to take on a traveling nickname.

Besides, he found he liked the sound of it. It felt... well... adventurous! And for an aging fellow like Auri with 350 long years behind him, it made him feel good inside.
 
Faron Firestorm

- The Fiery Brawler -​


Faron was sitting by the campfire, warming himself by waving his hands in front of it, while thinking about his life. When he was younger, he had never thought of travelling that far from his homeland, let alone climbing one of the coldest mountains in this world. He rarely ever got such opportunities, so he had been trying to enjoy as much of it as possible. Although the temperature there was extremely low, it did not take him much time to get used to it, since he had never returned to the desert where he had been born for ages. The hot weather and dry climate were just no longer a significant part of his life.

In a bid to avoid a mutually awkward interaction with said human, he instead turned to Faron and said in his deep, quiet voice, 'Well, nothing like a good fire to drive the chill from the bones. Still a ways to go, but... hm, how are we all holding up? Also, do you know this man's name - it's on the tip of my tongue, truly, but I just can't place it.'
He startled a bit as others rarely ever started a conversation with him. “Huh?” He reacted, turning his attention to the Dwarf, “agreed. I’m doing pretty good. But I’m not sure about his name, either,” then he turned to the man next to him, “hey, what’s your name?”
 
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Date: October 12th (Sunday), year 3321
Location: The Frostback Mountains
Weather: Cloudy, bright, and cold, with occasional gusts of colder wind.


  • Around 10:00 h
    Master Renhart's Residence, Village of Haven



    Horn Renhart politely acknowledged Maggie's and Auri's introductions without asking questions. He focused on Carn, looking even more uneasy now that the obvious question had been raised. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came at out first. The healer was hesitant; like a man who wasn't sure how to explain something, or where to begin.

    "Your friend is well," he said at length. "Or at least he was the last time I saw him. I'm afraid he's no longer in my care, you see. This should explain it... He's left a note for you. Here." From a nearby shelf the healer retrieved a letter, still sealed with wax, and proffered it to Carn.

    Carn,

    Thank you for saving my life. If it hadn't been for you, I never would have made it off the mountain.
    I had made my peace with the fact that I'd have to spend my days lying in bed while waiting for
    recovery and your eventual return - but then, unexpectedly, everything changed.

    A group of dragonhunters arrived to Haven last night, apparently looking for the same beast that
    attacked us. Among them, equally unexpectedly, was a priest (and a dwarven one at that... imagine).
    Renhart has performed wonders treating my injuries, but true Miracles are, as you know, irreplaceable.

    I take this as a sign. An opportunity for revenge, and one last chance to leave our guild's mark on
    the Frostbacks before winter is here. By the time you make it back it may be too late, and the dragon
    as well might already be gone. I hope you'll understand, and that you'll get to curse me in person for

    my foolishness upon my safe return. Be well, my friend.

    Aron

    "A dragonhunting party arrived to the village last night," Renhart continued after a polite pause, paying attention to all three of them now. "Among them was a priest who kindly saw to Aron's injuries. A few Miracles and a good night's rest, and he had made a full recovery. I couldn't believe it when he announced that he would be leaving with them, but aside from advising against it, there wasn't much that I could have done to keep him. It's ironic, really. He reasoned that he couldn't wait for you, and yet here you are, arriving just hours after his departure. They left at dawn this morning."
 
Carn Barley

- The Iron Wall -


When the healer said that his friend was well, Carn gave a nod, stepping back when he noticed that he was looming over the healer. While Carn's worry was greatly eased, questions remained as to why Aron was not there. Carn was about to ask as much when Horn mentioned a note from Aron, offering to Carn the sealed parchment. Carn eagerly received it before opening the parchment, silently reading it as Horn continued to speak.

Upon finishing the parchment, Carn let out a weak, loathed sigh and blurted out, “Sounds like Aron,” with an annoyance that was tempered by experience. Carn knew that Aron could never stay still and that Aron had a penchant for hasty decisions. That was great in dire situations but terrible in waiting games, as was this case. For the other part of the letter, the vengeance part was off for Aron’s character but, it seemed likely to Carn that that excuse was the best Aron could conjure up other than “I’m looking for an interdimensional portal that could ruin our world.” Carn let out another sigh before remembering that he’d yet to thank Horn.

With a much more relaxed and thankful tone, Carn said, “Ah, thank you and the Maker bless you for taking care of Aron. I hope the joke mill didn’t give you too much trouble.” That last part was partly an insult towards Aron. Normally, Carn wouldn’t do that, but he was too relieved to care what he was saying. He was just glad that Aron was alive and kicking, still annoyed, but glad nonetheless.
 



"I'm sorry we missed him," Maggie said. "I was rather looking forward to meeting one of Carn's friends. If they've left so lately, then I suppose you've no other patients in your care?" She was assuming that the other priest had healed anyone Renhart had been looking after, not just Aron. "But if you do, I'd be happy to be of service myself, or if anything turns up while we're here. Not that I want to take over from you," she added hastily. "You've a lovely setup here, and I wish more villages had someone like you to care for them. But because they don't, I've got into the habit of asking."
 
Auri Grashaal the Insatiable

- Drakkar Ambassador to Asgard -


Auri watched Carn closely as the news about Aron was relayed to him. Auri had been alive for so long, he had outlived many a friend and acquaintance. Sometimes this meant for periods of feeling great loneliness, for Auri was far past his prime. So what could an old drakkar do but look out for the younger generations?

"Are you all right, Carn?"

Auri did not want to prod or pry, but Carn seemed like the kind of fellow who did not have many friends and might could use some. Meanwhile, Auri grinned at Maggie. Seeing her with a fellow healer made him happy for miracle-makers needed friends too.
 
Master Renhart paid Maggie a grateful smile, but reassured her: "Very kind of you, but fortunately there are no souls under my care at the moment. It's normally very quiet here in Haven. I am usually called upon to make house calls and treat minor injuries that occur at the workplace - I scarcely believed it when survivors of a dragon attack showed up at my door! Luckily, my travels have not left me unprepared, even for such a thing."

When Auri expressed concern for Carn, it drew Renhart's attention as well. He eyed the smaller of the two drakkar with worry, but when he spoke again it was to say something else. "Ah, but I forget my manners. Some caretaker I'm supposed to be... I haven't even offered you a drink. Come, sit. Won't you have some tea? It's a custom blend I make myself from what grows on the mountain. Calms the nerves, it does, and strengthens the body. I've also honey to sweeten it with, though some prefer it as it is."
 



Taking a moment to process all that the barkeep mouthed, Asher nodded,

"I was busy looking for a tavern to notice. I'll go and check out the shop after I warm myself up a bit."


Asher said and went silent, hoping the barkeep would take that as a sign to go and get him his order. He wanted to avoid talking about this imaginary relative, in order to prevent any slip ups. Let the barkeeps imagination do the work for him.

Instead, he focused on the nearby group again.
 
Carn Barley

- The Iron Wall -


"Are you all right, Carn?"

When his senior posed the question, Carn gave a nod.

“I’m fine,” he replied, his tone lighter than before. Had Auri asked the question minutes before, Carn would have been lying. However, now that Carn knew Aron wasn’t dead, he was more or less telling the truth. There was no need to worry because Aron could take of himself, and now that Aron was in the hands of actual dragonhunters, he shouldn’t get impaled like last time, or so Carn believed.

“Aron's alright, so I'm not too worried anymore,” Carn added to sweep away weaker doubts. At that point, he was ready to wait patiently for the group to say goodbye when Horn gave the sudden offer for some tea. Carn hesitated on the offer before shooking his head.

“Thank you, but I think we should get going,” Carn politely turned down. He thought tea would be great, but he had more important priorities. Continuing, Carn explained, “I'd like to meet up with Aron and his group as soon as possible.” Having tea would add an additional time wasted, and not to mention, meeting up with Dina and the others would add even more time. However, in his rush to begin the search, Carn failed to notice that he wasn’t the only recipient of the offer.
 
Date: October 12th (Sunday), year 3321
Location: The Frostback Mountains
Weather: Cloudy, bright, and cold, with occasional gusts of colder wind.


  • Around 10:00 h
    Master Renhart's Residence, Village of Haven



    Glancing over his shoulder at the large grandfather clock nested between two shelves, Renhart began scratching his beard. "Well, they're only four hours ahead of you... And they're a larger group, carrying lots of equipment and supplies with them. I suppose if you moved with purpose, you stand a chance at catching up with them. With the weather as it is, their tracks should last for a good while longer," he reasoned. "But there's no telling where their search for the dragon might take them. You could just as easily lose them in the mountains. Or lose yourselves, even... I can't say I'd advise this course of action, but it's up to you. Are you sure you won't stay for some tea, at least? I can conjure up some snacks to go with it, and unless I'm mistaken you've only just arrived to the village - it would be wise to rest up before heading further into the mountains."
 
Ingvar Sindram
- Seeker of the Maker -​

It’s Egbert. I shall commit to Egbert.

The man in question’s reply was short, gruff and brutal in its dashing of Ingvar’s hopes. “My name is Varys.”

I suppose this is what it means to find yourself disappointed with every word in a sentence, the dwarf thought forlornly. And I really thought it might be Egbert too. That said, he doesn’t really look like an Egbert. Something about his chin, if there was ever such a thing as an Egbert-like chin - maybe it’s a spot too unshaven. Hm. Retrospect is truly a funny little thing.

‘Huhu, well, let us not chide the poor thing - it’s trying its best in a trying time,’
Ingvar chuckled as Varys jabbed his finger at the flickering fire. ‘And who knows, we may well make a memorable fire of it yet. Where it may lack in size of its flames, it makes up for the friends it has gathered. After all, we are certainly not in want of memorable company, hm?’

He motioned with one thick eyebrow at Faron and the other dragonhunters. At a glance, they certainly made for an odd collection - though not everyone knew each other by name (or face, considering how often they had their hoods up to protect them from the cold), the fact that they had made it this far indicated a certain level of unspoken professional trust. Despite his extensive travels spending time with all manner of strangers from all walks of life, Ingvar himself had only travelled with organised groups of dragonhunters a few times before and thus found himself in the unusual situation of being surrounded by people cut from a somewhat unfamiliar cloth.

This meant, of course, that the curious old dwarf was having the time of his life.

Unfamiliar people on an unfamiliar quest facing unfamiliar challenges - even at his considerable age, the Creator had graciously gifted him with a new day filled with new things to discover and new companions. Whether it was on the familiar frozen terrain of the northern mountains or the distant deserts of the south were irrelevant, because here was a young man who had a story he knew nothing about - he’d only just learnt (or remembered) his name! And of course, there was Faron. They had only travelled together a few times before, and yet here they were, a drakkar and a dwarf halfway up a mountain hunting dragons. What divine hand could have authored such a tale but the divine hand?

‘Hm, not to detract from the gravity of the task at hand, of course,’ Ingvar continued, ‘but let us acknowledge the rarity of this moment. We are a rare assembly, and I am certain the stories and conversations will be equally rare. Take yourself, for example - a hunter of much skill to be sure, considering your age and your prey. Surely you have a tale or two to share over the fire. And Faron’ -he turned to the drakkar beside him and gently clapped him on the arm- ‘has yet to share with me what he has been up to in his travels of late, which I have no doubt will be quite thrilling.’
 
Carn Barley

- The Iron Wall -


When Horn put it that way, it was hard to argue. There's a chance that they wouldn't find Aron and his group and a chance that they could be attacked. It would be a lot safer to wait in town for the group inevitably to return for the night. Besides, it seemed like a waste to decline Horn’s offer for a little bit of refreshments, but… Carn gave a contemplative stare towards Horn before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry to turn down the offer again, but I think we really should be going,” Carn responded in an apologetic tone. Carn was incredibly grateful to Horn for saving Aron’s life, but now that he knew Aron was alive, finding Aron became a higher priority. It was a rather selfish desire of his, wanting desperately to see his friend alive and dispel that ragged image. However, when he remembered that others were with him, he grew somewhat embarrassed that he'd forgotten that they were there.

“...Unless," Carn trailed as he looked at his much older senior, "you'd like to stay for tea. And you, too,” Carn added when he shifted his gaze at the seasoned priestess.
 



Asher enjoyed the warmth of his drink, feeling it fill him with warmth. After sitting there for a while, playing around with the now empty cut in his hands, he decided to pay the barkeep and go get himself something warm to wear.

I hope those hunters, the Silverthorns take care of the dragons before they take care of us. For now, I'll go get myself something warmer to wear.
 
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Auri Grashaal the Insatiable

- Drakkar Ambassador to Asgard -


Auri replied, "Oh, me? Turn down snacks, tea, and a spot of rest? Excuse me, but do you see this?" He playfully rubbed his rotund belly and chuckled which made it jiggle. "Only if the two of you aren't in the mood! And besides, I do have a few questions if you have the time?"

If it seemed that the offer was open, Auri asked. "Just what kind of wounds did Carn's friend suffer? Were they typical of a reptilian of its size or was there anything unusual about his injuries, say in a magic or elemental sense?" Creation only knew how many different dragons there were out there and the more they knew about this one, the better.
 

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