The fog rose and a dragon came.
[Isley's voice accompanies the gentle click of his Forge as he turns it on, the gears humming internally, a soft whir of noise that is barely audible against the brush of wind across the speakers. The sword he normally carries at his hip is driven into the earth; he rests his back against the blade and in his lap
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[Isley smiles.]
I hope that you need never prepare for the worst, Morgana, but I'm afraid it would be in vain. Be cautious...and if you ever need assistance, you may come to me.
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[ she smiles and inclines her head. ]
What is to be expected from winter here?
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