Neverwinter Forest Each morn we are born again

sólhárr dipped his head, acknowledging the seer with a low rumble of greeting. irúna. her name carried on his tongue like a prayer, steeped in reverence for her gifts and the gods she served. his glacier eyes briefly scanned the bundle she carried, noting the vibrant greens of the yarrow.

the forest favors you, he said, his voice steady as the roots beneath their paws. he stepped closer, the weight of his presence grounding but not imposing. you honor it well, seer.

he allowed a moment of quiet, the rustle of leaves and distant birdsong filling the space between them. does the máni speak through you today? he inquired, his curiosity sincere. what wisdom do the spirits offer?