Bearclaw Valley Who needs diamonds

she laughed. she smiled. she rolled her eyes playfully. the words, the gestures, the little gleaming grin — none of it matched the pulpy, gristly subject matter of murder. the dissonance here chewed at val’s conscience like an unpleasant loose end. she spoke of this killing like it was just another tuesday; taken and butchered at the altar, all before tea!

poison. val vowed to never take it upon himself to accept any offering of food from this woman.

they must not trust you. he answered, bearing a manner uncharacteristically close to aventus’. i fought for them in rivenwood.