The Lady's answers had eluded him for many months before he decided to make this journey. While the Arcanist had always been reliable in the answering of his faithful's questions, the same couldn't be said for the Shadowbinder it seemed.
Lathkeen's life had been dedicated to understanding the nature of the deities. While he only served one, knowledge was precious to his clan and they had all looked on him with approval when one day he voiced his opinion that it would be worthwhile to know them all. He became obsessed. He scoured his clan's library for weeks, in search of anything that would sate this thirst that had no name. Unfortunately, there was nothing in his clan's possession that had anything more than the vaguest historical accounts and the dullest of superficial observations. It became clear to him that if he wanted the secrets beneath the surface, he would have to dig for them himself. Lathkeen began to keep a journal, where he detailed his discoveries and the conclusions he came to about the Eleven.
Which brought him to the Tangled Wood.
Once someone in a local market place had mentioned a clan near the Forum of the Obscured Crescent. 'The Enclave of the Bleak Strand,' he had called it. He had known little about it besides the name, but Lathkeen's continued digging led to some interesting opinions on the mysterious clan.
Fanatics.
Murderers.
Cultists.
Slavers.
The words echoed through his mind as he approached the Forum, along with the warnings he had received to let them be. Dragon kind had a way of skewing the truth about things they didn't understand, and Lathkeen was hesitant to accept their words as truth.
And if they were? Well, wisdom often hid behind the veil of fanaticism.
Lathkeen swooped down and landed gracefully when he believed he had come to the right place. His blue silks billowed in the slight breeze, as did the mist the seemed to engulf the entire Wood. Lathkeen squinted, looking for some sort of gate or indicator to an entrance. There seemed to be no one to receive guests, leading Lathkeen to believe there may not be much need for that sort of thing.
Seeing no other alternative, Lathkeen made the warbling Skydancer call to announce his presence. It had been strange, growing up around the roars of Mirrors, Guardians and Imperials. He had tried to roar himself several times when he was growing up, much to the amusement of his parents as they waited for him to realize that his vocal chords were not suited for such things.
((@Galeia I hope this is okay! Your writing intimidates me haha.))
Lathkeen's life had been dedicated to understanding the nature of the deities. While he only served one, knowledge was precious to his clan and they had all looked on him with approval when one day he voiced his opinion that it would be worthwhile to know them all. He became obsessed. He scoured his clan's library for weeks, in search of anything that would sate this thirst that had no name. Unfortunately, there was nothing in his clan's possession that had anything more than the vaguest historical accounts and the dullest of superficial observations. It became clear to him that if he wanted the secrets beneath the surface, he would have to dig for them himself. Lathkeen began to keep a journal, where he detailed his discoveries and the conclusions he came to about the Eleven.
Which brought him to the Tangled Wood.
Once someone in a local market place had mentioned a clan near the Forum of the Obscured Crescent. 'The Enclave of the Bleak Strand,' he had called it. He had known little about it besides the name, but Lathkeen's continued digging led to some interesting opinions on the mysterious clan.
Fanatics.
Murderers.
Cultists.
Slavers.
The words echoed through his mind as he approached the Forum, along with the warnings he had received to let them be. Dragon kind had a way of skewing the truth about things they didn't understand, and Lathkeen was hesitant to accept their words as truth.
And if they were? Well, wisdom often hid behind the veil of fanaticism.
Lathkeen swooped down and landed gracefully when he believed he had come to the right place. His blue silks billowed in the slight breeze, as did the mist the seemed to engulf the entire Wood. Lathkeen squinted, looking for some sort of gate or indicator to an entrance. There seemed to be no one to receive guests, leading Lathkeen to believe there may not be much need for that sort of thing.
Seeing no other alternative, Lathkeen made the warbling Skydancer call to announce his presence. It had been strange, growing up around the roars of Mirrors, Guardians and Imperials. He had tried to roar himself several times when he was growing up, much to the amusement of his parents as they waited for him to realize that his vocal chords were not suited for such things.
((@Galeia I hope this is okay! Your writing intimidates me haha.))