A light fog rolls through Thuron. Namathorn sits idly in his chair drinking from his mug. You walk in through the entrance, drenched in rain and notice him tip his cloak hood slightly forward, as if to say to join him at his table. You look around making sure he wasn't aiming his subtle message to someone else. You find nobody else moving so you walk to him. As you sit in the chair across the table, he slides a piece of parchment towards you. On one side it says send message, on the other a green arrow with the words back underneath. He leans in closer and whispers something in your ear while pointing towards the parchment. He returns to his relaxed position but is intently focused on what you will do. In your thoughts you jump from side to side trying to decide which to choose. After a few moments you have come to a conclusion, you write your response on the same parchment and slide it back towards Namathorn. What do you write.
Thuron, ravaged by war and in need of salvation. Legends passed down through the generations tell of a band of strangers that came together to return hope and peace to the people. It doesn't say if it was brought through destruction, or brought peacefully
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