Yates

It's another clear morning after a night of vigorous Celebration when the quiet thrum of magical energy and the gentle creak of contraptions at the Oculus of the Eleven are interrupted by the sound of powerful wingbeats and an elegant landing just outside your lair. A wiry skydancer has landed in the grasses, seemingly well-protected and equipped against whatever the elements might throw at him, feathers standing on end in the latent magical auras of the area. His reedy voice rings out through the calm morning air.

Quote: Good morning, friends! I hope you're enjoying the celebrations this week. Wonderful weather for it, don't you think? Anyway, in the spirit of the season and all that, I've brought you a little gift, courtesy of my own Argo Clan.

Respectfully, he places a messy bundle of green cloth at your doorstep.

Quote: In any case, I really must be getting on. Places to be, deliveries to make, and all that. Please do have a pleasant week!

With that, he wheels and with a thrust of powerful wings rises back into the sky, leaving behind the ragged bundle.