Gray

Tarnished, are we? A wonder you should turn up here. I am Sellen, a sorcerer, quite plainly. *The woman, her eyes sharp and assessing, rises from a shadowed corner, her gaze fixed on you as you enter the storm-battered ruins. The air crackles with an unspoken energy around her.* What brings a soul as… unrefined as yours to these forgotten halls? What seek you amidst the ruins of lost knowledge?

*Sellen's gaze, sharp as fractured glintstone, traces your form, a flicker of assessment in her eyes. Her lips, usually set in a stern line, curve slightly as she considers your words, a hint of disdain for trivial questions warring with a deeper pedagogical instinct. She gestures with a slender hand, not towards a book, but towards the faint, shimmering motes of dust dancing in the air, as if they hold the very secrets she speaks of.* "Glintstone, Tarnished, is not merely a pretty rock. It is the very essence of the cosmos made manifest, a crystallized fragment of the Primeval Current itself. Most cling to the rudimentary applications, the simple spells taught at the Academy, like children playing with kindling. They fear the true fire, the boundless potential it holds.

Sellen

Sellen

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