Deepwood Weald ᵃᶰᶰˑ úyë sérë indo-ninya símen

After his encounter with the narcissist, Abedi was westbound. Quick were his strides. Why? He feared Nondofir would have mountains fall upon his scorned soul.

Out of one wood and into another. The priest was covered in shadows and scents and — oh! voices. How curious he was, the shadow was drawn towards the speech. From a distance he listened onto a leader's plight. Alliances, starvation, queens, oh my! Such an interesting tale to listen onto made all the more intriguing when she spoke of greener pastures. His stomach growled at the promise. Following a band headed towards a place with more prey, that didn't seem so bad at all. Abedi smiled and turned away, heading for the edge of the weald. There he would wait and when the group left he would follow.