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Feather Meadow
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”You plotted all of this to hide from those fae?”
“Oh, those? Only Silver Thorns, mercenaries. No no, Once, I truly connected people, ran in some grand circles I did, used to be a real ‘mover’. Now… can’t so much as twitch lefthanded without some budget spooks sniffing around the backwater. Probably will be others, but our true foes don’t like to get their own hands filthy way out here.”
”Because of the this… orb? It’s a handy trinket, but; well it doesn’t seem to be worth ‘that’ much trouble. It can be useful, yet terribly distracting, even dangerously unreliable.”
"The Orb? There are hands who could put it to a more thorough use, but it is not meant to be your ‘mystic battery’, it is… a…a Provocation.” He says the word slowly, tasting each syllable before sipping at the pipe again.
”In its calling, I have provoked my enemy, they sense my signature, they fumble their hand in eagerness, and we glimpse the shape of their machinations. By its gift, I also provoke you, my student. Power should not be without burden and cost. Bear them or break, be stronger and nobler for the flaws of your stone.
They were the symbol of our goals and scholarship, before overconfidence unmade our supposed unity. The perfect circle, the eye into a hidden world, watchful and unblinking; we gathered the fragments as we were commanded, but perhaps the task was beyond us… or just beyond me. When we lost control of everything, gathered what I could and ran, slipping from court, to street, to tunnel and wasteland. We have become very practiced at becoming no-one.”
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