Shav was a bit edgy down in that gloom, but the raw earth spoke to me, and the hovering slabs of mountain-sized doom only encouraged my feet to glide faster. I found myself missing my disc back in Norsca, Norsca where the followers of chaos war eternally against the incursions from the Empire. Perhaps, if I found myself staying in Neverwinter, I shall speak to a dwarf about recreating a disc.
“You feel that,” Shav said before I could.
“An immense surge of arcane magic,” I agreed, feeling it become to tug at the roots of my mind.
“Could it be coming from those things?” He asked.
“Most definitely,” I agreed.
Two slim figures dressed in blue satin robes with tentacles writing all over their face lifted their arms simultaneously, skinny purple fingers clawing the air. I detested them automatically. Who could trust those eyes? Black tear-shaped chasms beaming out…
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