Blackbeak Bluff The night wages on

Corva was a pious woman but not in the way others often thought.  Blessed and haunted by visions, she wasn't sure if she was given a gift by the gods or if perhaps she was one, though she was at most times not so bold to assume the latter.  Her vision by daylight was hazy; she could make out shapes and colour but details were lost, fuzzy.  It was only by night that her vision peaked.

The shade remains unoffendable, a flicker of admiration appearing on her face at his attempt to speak her tongue.  His question stumps her; languages and their variations often lacked direct translations but she did what she could. Knight of the Moon; moon-knight.  She wondered if her description was accurate; the woman had a striking, critical eye for detail and his mesomorphic body type had not escaped it.  But all who were large did not use their brawn for battle and she had room to be incorrect in her assumptions.

She casts her gaze to the sky, lingering on the stars.  I do not blame you.  You are lucky.