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Rifts in the Weave
074 - Morning - 50 Harvest, 385 - Reishada, Ograkill, Charan

074 - Morning - 50 Harvest, 385 - Reishada, Ograkill, Charan

She slipped through the morning crowd in the temple square with practiced ease. The crowds in Reishada were made up primarily of orckin. Most of them were tall, nearing six feet and sometimes even topping it, with broad shoulders and barrel chests. Interspersed were the occasional elfkin, still tall but willowy, rarer still were humans in all their wondrous variety, but rarest of all were shadairian. Vail finally arrived at her destination, darting into the temple of Shadair.

She straightened her fur, brushing at it with one hand, before genuflecting toward the statue of Shadair that dominated the room. As a god of nature, he was often depicted as a shadairian, though of a family no living shadairian shared. His antlers touched the ceiling and two walls of the small temple, his face had the general shape of a buck. Even done in simple, grey stone, Shadair’s eyes seemed gentle and merciful as she looked at them.

“Father,” Vail kept her eyes on those of the statue as she spoke. “It has been a long time since we have spoken.”

“I’ve decided to join the expedition to the Outlands. I know I’m not the most dedicated follower, but I ask that you watch over the expedition, and not only because I am going with it. Something strange is coming, I think. It makes the fur on my neck stand on end. I think this expedition is more vital than even the High Commander believes.”

She took a handful of coins out of her pocket and set them at Shadair’s cloven hooves. “May your merciful eye be upon us.”

She turned away from the statue and looked out over the temple square, waiting. It didn’t take long before her friend arrived. Unlike her weaving progress across the square, people made way for Suli, he towered over all but the tallest orckin. His shaggy head easy to make out as he worked his way through the crowd toward the temple. “Oi, Suli!” She called out, stepping out of the temple and waving. The huge ursine head turned toward her and a smile broke out on his face, exposing massive, sharp teeth.

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“Vail, I seen you called fer me an’ ‘urried right on o’er. Wha’cha need, kid?”

“The Blackfist is forming an expedition to go to the Outlands.”

Suli shook his massive head as he made the last few steps to the temple. “Dumbas rocks, that. You ain’ goina go, is ya?”

Vail took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “I’m going.”

Suli looked down at her, a frown marring his large face as he laid one massive hand on her shoulder. “Ye sure?”

“I’m sure, Suli. I think it’s important. I think this has to succeed. We need all the help we can get.”

“Yer wantin’ me ta go?” He looked into the temple toward the statue of Shadair, his furry ears twitching. It was the only sign of anxiety he let slip.

“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of asking you if it weren't important.”

Suli scratched the back of his head with the long black claws of one hand. His expression was uncertain. “Donno, Vail, s’a big ask. Dangerous.”

“I know. It’s more than anyone should ask of you.” Her orange tinted eyes flicked over the crowd outside the temple, looking for familiar faces. “I think we’ll need you.”

“Yer no wrong.” Again, a large paw fell on her shoulder, this time he squeezed gently. “I’ll come. Relly too.”

Vail smiled broadly as she looked up at Suli’s face. “We’re leaving in five days. The Council is provisioning us.”

“Mmm. Seriouser’n I thought.”

“You and Relly meet me at the Drunken Fox tonight, I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“See yer t’night ‘en.”