2018-02-10 5:51:14 pm by
AlbusNiall in category General
Prologue:
A Scribe from Asperiche met me on the docks one morning, her right hand resting fondly on the right shoulder of her young son, perhaps 15 or so. Something of a simple, quiet boy, he had little hope of becoming an adequate Scribe himself, despite both of their best efforts. She begged me to take him, to teach him, make a man of him and show him Thassa's ways. She had no...