Sayer ain't the only scribe!

[Wildfire]

Looking around Dale notices that there are no stumps, broken branches, or even leaves on the ground. It's as if some great broom swept all of the normal forest clutter from the floor of this grove of trees. There weren't even any bushes about...just the trees.

The glinting of morning light off of the light gold leaves would occasianally blind Dale at unexpected times. There were birds flying to and from the nests they had made in the branches above.

Finally Dale spots a rock on the groundnot too far away that looks as though it might make a decent stool for him to sit on and do some writing. After all there was plenty of light and, except for the birds, quiet too.

[Blackspear]

Dale follows the road into the grove of beautiful golden trees.   He has never seen anything like them before.   As he travels the road up the Goldleaf Ridge, he imagines himself as Valekai, seeing this surreal scene for the very first time.    Did he appreciate the beauty that was about him?  Or was his mind so demented that he could not even focus on the trees?   Seeing the beauty of the land around him makes Dale want to protect it.   He desperately hopes that he can uncover Valekai's secrets, but he most certainly does not want to destroy this place to do it.

As if snapping out of a reverie, Dale looks around him and notices a large flat boulder, the height of a table.   "This rock will be perfect to write upon.  I wonder if I can find something to sit on?"   Dale begins to search on top of the ridge for a small boulder or stump that could serve as a stool.

[Wildfire]

Even from across the river Dale can see the steep road that leads up to Goldleaf Ridge. Next to the copse of brilliant trees, the leaves of which are a white gold in this time of sythus, is The Temple of Open Skies.

Few, if any, people have been seen walking the road to that part of town. It is indeed a quiet place with an unspoken sacredness and majesty.

The morning is, as always, laced with mist but it is quickly burning off as Kossuth rises amidst the tumbling fair weather clouds. The sounds of the birds are a sure reminder that the warmer weather of brak is arriving quickly. The breeze coming off of the mountains blows the scent of sythus flowers through the river valley.