This letter was initially intended for Monday, March 1st, but we held it so that we could include additional comments regarding the treasure changes.
Id like to apologize for not taking further steps to prevent all of you from being blindsided by some of our upcoming changes. More to the point, were making some big changes to the way we release information about upcoming updates. Well be releasing information farther ahead of time, which will allow us to listen to your feedback and discuss these concepts and ideas with you long before we begin development on them.
Read what's new and changed in the March event!
Wails grew louder and the little figured looked backward, tripped on a root, and tumbled into the thick muck of the Blackmire Swamp. Though the nights were warmer than they had been only weeks before, the night air was still wintry. The creatures muscles stiffened and his blood became as viscous as the winter swamp about him. Another wail sounded and the mosswart clapped his yellow-green hands over his ears and met the sound with a scream of his own. His breath came in short gasps and his saucer eyes looked about wildly.
Antius made his way along the road leading into Hebian-to. No one in Cragstone knew of Rage Laos whereabouts. He hoped beyond hope that his search would be more fruitful in the Sho capital. The sun was high in the sky and the city was active, hope filled him when he saw that the archmages shop door was open and two patrons stood within. One ran off before he had the time to speak but the second remained behind.
Rain fell in torrential sheets, splattering the already foul mire toward the weeping heavens. For one hundred and twelve cycles it had rained. Ruuk Soothsayers danced around sheltered luminescent fungi and told tales of The Sleeping One, the time of reckoning and the revelations that will bring the circle of vengeance closed. They had long ago cleansed the tainted Fiazhat race from the surface of Bur, their world, but remnants of Fiazhat Gods hunted them still.
The sun rises each morning. The moons come each night. Words ceaselessly appear on the pages of this book. Auberean has survived by way of these constants. But what happens to creation if the words one day stop?