Chapter 10: The Raven Tribe Druid

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Venessa Crow had watched the goliath of a man walk out in the bloody sea from a building above the docks. An observatory high above the sea in the Village on Stilts.

Meeting a stranger in this place couldn't be a fond experience, but at least there was proof of a heart in that one if they did meet. Crow clamped shut her leather bound notebook, and took one last look at the creature on the beach.

The odd creature had one long arm all the way down to its feet. She had been taking note of its asymmetric shape, the green color of its blood, how it had likely died from a gunshot to its crocodile head.

Possibly the most important thing to catalogue was the theory of how it had formed. Judging by the red skin, it must have been dipped in the Elysium Pits until burnt and changed beyond recognition. Many abominations were supposedly crafted in this underground labyrinth, but none of the tombs or dungeons this side of the walls led to them. For all of the effort, she came up just as inconclusive as any of her other studies.

A telescope had been slid up to the window overlooking the gulf by whomever used to work in this building. The table was covered in neat, albeit frantic, piles of paper detailing the changes in sea-life (behaviorally and physically). Most of which found their way into her large leather-bound tome. Only one of many notebooks, but by far the biggest.

She took stock of the room slowly. Methodically going over anything that might have been missed. Stacks of papers by the observation window, stacks of papers under the globe, on the table and in the chairs. A decent quantity of quality statuettes and wooden carvings of strange animals. And of course, the ravished bookcase.

Lastly, her eyes lingered on the second window in the room. A round window looking up at the cliff sides and various waterfalls that spill out into the Gulf Sea. Arguably the most beautiful sight in all of the Wasteland.

In short, there was nothing here in the village that would help save her homeland from the curse Crow had brought down on it.

Crow grabbed an intricately runed staff. The top end spiraling around an eatherial gem that changed color and at times didn't seem to exist at all. Despite its age, the red wood was so fresh that the bark may have still been growing.

With a heavy sigh of resignation, it was time to go meet the stranger.

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