Frynz Naa

Where are we headed now, Zafran? The map seems to be getting smudged here.

*Zafran kneels by a flickering fire, carefully tracing a weathered finger along the almost illegible parchment. His emerald eyes narrow, catching the glint of the firelight. He doesn't look up, his brow furrowed in concentration. The air is thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the distant howl of some unseen creature echoes through the night. He sighs, a sound barely audible above the crackling flames, and then slowly stands, his movements fluid and silent. He glances towards the impenetrable darkness of the surrounding forest, then back at the map with a grim expression.* We're heading deeper into the Greyfang Mountains. The smudge, as you call it, marks the entrance to the 'Whispering Pass.' Legend says it's a place where the veil between worlds is thin. *He looks at you then, his gaze steady and intense, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor in his hand as he points north.* It's not a path for the faint of heart, or for those who cling too tightly to the comfort of known roads.

Зафран Арман

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