Once again i find myself breaking bread with the king of the Madfoot. He spoke to me in a dream. Wise words. The meaning of which is not yet clear, but i heed them. 'Fight it not, the wind that spears. Clad them well, those crumbling fears. The dagger howls, the claws bite deep. Further still for which you seek. Far from hope, u find at end. The bone, the iron. The flesh to rend.' I dwell oft on his benediction knowing that when i truly understand it shall be done by his hand and his blood alone.
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