Time Wounds All Heals
for Ludo
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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#1
The storm was finally receding, thunder a bare rumble in the distance and lightning the only flicker of brightness in the cloud-darkened night. The rain had been hard and heavy earlier while a slender fox had sheltered inside a center-rotted log, but his blue eyes had watched the clearing beyond for hours to make sure no others came or went. Now the rain merely pattered down among the leaves that ringed the Glade, and the darkish-grey creature blended with the night as he slipped from his shelter and slunk between the glow stones, sticking to shadows when he could.

His steps were slow, almost reluctant; the lash of his last visit to the place was still a fresh wound in his heart. Left to his own devices he would have stayed away, but the world was shifting too fast to allow for such selfishness. Too fast, even, to allow time for wounds to scab over, much less heal. He had been appointed an advisor, and while he might have let his wounded pride dictate his actions when it was him alone, his old sense of duty had been awakened and would not let him hide when there was a chance he could help.

When he reached the altar he hesitated long moments before he finally leaned forward to set a small figure there, letting go of it with pained reluctance. It was a tiny luxere made of metal, cunningly wrought and laden with both memory and emotion. A raindrop slid into his eye and he blinked it away furiously to run down his cheek as he sat back and calmed his mind, sending forth the prayer that he desperately hoped would be heard.

Ludo, herald of Mort, guide of souls, I have questions and would ask for some of your time, the fox prayed to the night, shivering at the cold autumn wind that sprang up in the storm's wake.


Age: 7 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#2


Only the chilly autumn wind and the rising crescendo of the storm serves as an indication that the fox's plea had been heard.

Or was it simply nature carrying on as she would?

The signs can be hard to interpret.


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