Drops of dark red liquid appeared on the surface of the new stone. Were it orange instead of red, the liquid would have likened to Drelves’ blood. 13 drops of red fluid dripped to the floor. When the thirteenth drop struck the floor a flash of grayness filled the room.
A tall figure wearing a robe and cowl towered over the Drelves. Fathomless eyes peered out from the cowl, which covered most of his face. The tall figure before them pulled back his dark cowl and stared at the brace of Drelves in the confines of the massive Old Orange Spruce. Long auburn hair flowed down his back and deep blue eyes peered from beneath his long brows.
Agrarian stammered, “Who… who are you? Why are you here?”
The figure coolly said, “You will not recall my face after this encounter. To the point of my being here… you called me.”
Agrarian asked, “How… what do you mean, we called you?”
The tall figure answered, “The four elemental stones and the ichor of the Bloodstone fragment summoned me to this place. The power of the Windward Staves brought me. Let me first say to you, young Wizard. Magick touches you. Its touch is not always gentle and the power it bestows has consumed many a sorcerer. Be wary, particularly should the gray sun draw near. In those times Magick’s touch mimics the Grasping Hand dweomer. Use your powers carefully. My vision extends far beyond Uragh Wood. Every step you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you. The visitor calmly said, “I thank the Staves of the Four Winds, the Windward Staves, children of the Bloodstone, the Source of Magick. Release the Bloodstone fragment.”
The robed figure moved his hands slowly from side to side. Three staffs appeared and hovered by his left flank.
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