Skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.
Felt it in my fists, in my feet, in the hollow of my eyelids
Shaking through my skull, through my spine and down through my ribs
5 Enchanted Objects - [The Enchanted Wreath]
'Fair maiden, who are you, and who gave you that wreath of singing roses?' asked he, for the birds were so tiny that till you looked closely you never saw them.
'I live in a hut on the edge of the forest,' she answered, blushing, for she had never spoken to a prince before. 'As to the wreath, I know not how it came there, unless it may be the gift of some doves whom I fed when they were starving!”
Warlocks have long studied the Traveler, mastering some of its arcane energies. Its true purpose still remains a great mystery, but discovering truth has always driven you into the unknown. Now, our enemies are the only thing that stands between you and the lost wonders of our Golden Age.