An individual meets Wraithvine, Amatu, and the others and invites them to tea. Why? Just to make friends. -- Anon Guest
Kilby Kraghold found the strangers in his wolf pit. One of them looked like he could just fly out and another was big enough to be the ladder for the rest.
"Ho there," he said. "What are you lot doing in my wolf pit?"
"Following the plotted line of a very obtuse prophecy," said the Elf. "Hello. We're very obviously lost. Would you happen to live in a cave, cliff, or chasm?" The Wizard tapped a part of a scroll, held open on one side by a ghostly, magical hand.
"I call it a crag, though it becomes a chasm deeper in," allowed Kilby. "Don't see many folks my way. Hold up." He got his ladder out of its little shelter and passed it down. "Come on up. I'll make tea."
Honestly, hermitting had its advantages. But there were times when talking to the goats or the bees just didn't cut it. These folks were making a trip to the nearest village a lot less appealing.
He made sure they all got out without breaking his ladder in the process and lead them all to his little hole in the mountain. It was a nice crag. Room for all his little projects and a nice deep drop with a seat over it for the privy. The water was sweet and the stones warm enough. He had plenty to share, but tea was always a good start.
Of course, with visitors came news of the world outside. Eldritch menaces, warlords, conquering kings, grasping oligarchs, and all the reasons why Kilby had decided to leave civilisation entirely.
They were an odd lot. An Elf, an Ogre, a Bugbear, and whatever the heck little Miss Vee Antheson and Mr Amatu Baumkyn were. The lot of them together might even inspire hope that the world wasn't as nasty as it seemed to be.
There were more and more factions dedicated to helping others. The Honour Guard. The Fostered. Even the Lutemen were arranging better ways of dealing with trouble.
"Tell me honest, Wizard. How many still choose to be vile instead of choosing to be kind?"
"Too many," sighed Wraithvine. "I should hope that it would be gradually less, but... Some people react to the insult of being named horrible, by increasing their horrible acts."
"I'll stay in my crag, then. It's no harm and I'm worn out from trying to help. My wool warms someone and my mead keeps folks happy. Good enough for this old fool."
"And this old fool will keep going," announced Wraithvine. "Past your wattle wall, through the chasm, and thence to defeat another evil."
"After a good rest and a long chat," insisted Kilby. "Nothing's better for defeating evil than a lighter heart and a full belly."
Wise words, as it turned out.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Gitusik]
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