Agarth: You've come from the power, haven't you? Name's Agarth. Maybe you can help an old Fateweaver, eh?
Fateweavers look at the great tapestry of fate. The threads will tell us how a life will unfold. But knowing the future and being able to change it are two very different things.
Did he? Poor old Fomorous Hugues. He respected the way the world works. What a shame. He's probably dead by now.
The cards told me that the Well of Souls would work, but Hugues' success would come on the day of his death. He took it pretty well, honestly. Although, we did a lot of drinking after that.
I suppose I can spare a little help. In memory of Hugues, or in celebration of his success. Whichever.
You really don't know much, do you? A Fateweaver taps into the threads of fate and channels that energy through a focus. My order prefers cards. The cards are unique to each Fateweaver, since we all see the weave differently.
You? You're the one? Then that means... It all makes sense now. The cards this morning, I drew the gravedigger, the running man, and the beast. Prepare yourself. They're coming.
Male 1: Prepare for a reckoning.
Male 2: Your life is mine.
Agarth: Your future is running out.
Tuatha Rogue: Tirnoch desires your death.
Agarth: Time for a drink.
What? How... What are you? The threads of fate! I've seen them before but I've never seen anyone manipulate them like that. You just changed how the world was supposed to work. How did you do that?
You just... Fate is the will of the gods. No mortal should be able to change it. How is that even possible? Come here. I'm going to do a reading. You might be able to change the threads, but Fate will still have a plan for you. I promise not to tell you if I see your death.
It's a gift. Some people paint landscapes. Other people write poetry. I peer into the weave of fate's tapestry and see people's deaths.
That would be my guess. He was an academic, but he had a proper respect for fate's plan. Unlike most gnomes.
That's fine. You don't have to. But I can see that you're nervous. Relax. This is what Fateweavers do. I'll bee seeing your thread in the weave of fate: who you are, what you've done, where your path takes you... Or at least, I should be. You're real, right? I swear, I haven't had that much...
I am. But still, I've never seen someone whose fate was just missing. Not even when I was drunk as the King of Ballads. This doesn't make sense. All mortal creatures have a place in the pattern. You should have one too, dead or not. If this is true, and I'm not saying I believe it, then your path is yours to determine.
Dammit, it's the truth! At least I think it is. The world is changing. You might be a sign of that. Or maybe the cause. I've never had a reason to doubt my own readings, but we should consult with Arden. He's not a friend, but he's got a good eye for the tapestry. I'll meet you at his home to the east. I'm going to see if I can be of any help to the wounded at the tower.
That's just it. I don't know if you've got one. But that's why we're going to go see Arden. He lives in a little hut to the east, in Yolvan. I'll meet you there. What could this all mean?
Female: Everyone just stand back. The warden can't work when you're crowding so close. Go back to your business. Go on.
Male 3: I'm exhausted.
Herc Adwold: I don't care what your race; it's a tragedy whenever anyone's savaged like this. Just look at the poor creature. She's been beaten to the brink of death. The Fae may be strange but they certainly don't deserve this.
It appears she was attacked with some manner of short blade, likely a dagger, although there's no way I can be sure. People simply stood by as she called for help. No one lifted a finger. Can you imagine? It's shameful to treat another in such a way, even if she is a Fae. I don't know whether we possess the knowledge to treat such a wound. Frankly, I don't even know if I could save a mortal with such grievous wounds.
No one wants to get involved. I don't know why you'd be any different. Hope you stay in town.