Neverwinter Forest morsgol

sólhárr studied reilly, his one good eye steady and unreadable. she was thoughtful, measured in her words, asking not just to take, but to understand what it meant to give.

a wise question. a good question.

a seer does not only see the omens, he rumbled, shifting his weight as he looked past her to the vast stretch of his claim. they must also see what others cannot. read the land. the stars. the spirits that whisper through the trees.

his gaze flicked back to her, measuring. forneskja honors those who listen. those who make sense of what others ignore. he gave a small, approving nod. if you are to become a seer, you will not just learn the ways of omens and visions. you will learn to track prey by the wind, to find the safest paths through the ice, to know when the seasons will change before they do.

he let the weight of his words settle before adding, there is wisdom in the past. in the dead. in the bones of the earth itself. if you would make yourself of use to forneskja, you must hear them all.

a pause, then the ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. do you believe you can?