a promise in a mouth of savage teeth

random event the cold was so intense that she could see her own breath; it came out of her mouth like smoke The Eirachi laughs properly at that, the sound ringing around the cavern and echoing down at Wessex. There is only one path, sweet one. You asked me what obstacles you might face along the way, and I have informed you. Beware the peril of the Fangs, and beware those who reside within the mountains. If you wish to get your mageglass, at least." Then talk returns to the matters she is truly interested in, and the image of the Eirachi seems to condense along the far wall, that the goddess and Wessex may speak in earnest. "A rescue of sorts," she agrees, a catlike smirk curling up the corners of her lips. "In return, should you succeed...?" Letting out a sigh like the winter winds, the Eirachi spreads her hands. "You may drink from me, sweet one."