[h3][color=bedded][b][center]Thomas Richard Harrison[/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] Gorlf Northern Territory: Ahead of the Caravan.
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color]A rather annoyed Kyra, possibly her hound Ash.[/indent][/center]

[i]
The Divination:
Uncooperatively,
Icosahedral.
[/i]
[indent][b]-[i]The supposed last prophecy of Oracle Gygax.[/i][/b][/indent]

There were a few things frowned upon by most civilized society. Mind you they had to be human civilized societies else some of the cultural taboos found in non-human cultures quite blatantly. Becoming a self-flagellate and finding a strange gravitas to feeling pain for example, would place one amongst the oddballs of society, alongside your counterparts the sadists. And of course there were those who were deviants of another nature, and preferred an animal magnetism so to speak. There's always that joke about the lack of women and plenty of sheep for a lonely shepherd, or even rumors about druids and rangers do in the woods. And of course there were those that even sickened the spurned. Those who, perhaps loved the dead, a bit too much no? As such it would seems Kyra was going to be the worst of these offenders and combine all three depravities into one. How dare she flog a dead horse?

[color=bedded]"T-Thomas..."[/color] Her line of questioning merely returned some terror and one quip as a turn of the boy's head towards her showed her his bewildered eyes. raging with the brilliance of the cosmos before fading. Thomas glanced at her direction before going limp. Unconsciousness washed over him, enshrouding him in he warmth of his own fever. For the power to manipulate reality itself without study came at a price. Too much pain, the body could only handle so much before collapsing in on itself. Like a star imploding and vanishing in the void. That void where he had went now, but only in his mind. His mind exhausted from processing the sensations of agony, shutting down to recover what moments it can.

Perhaps she could see he was no threat? Or perhaps they were a threat to him. But a nineteen year old boy conscious or not should not really be any trouble. Not to experienced adventurers. His pack would probably be something nice to loot, if Kyra was the type of person to rob poor unfortunate souls like Thomas. A few things kept within the rucksack if either were curious enough to take a peek. A weird mecharcanical contraption known as a Chronastrodynamus, a spellbook with a few hastily written spellcraft notes with the name 'Thomas Richard Harrison' quilled inside, and a few more standard odds and ends a wizard may carry. What was he doing alone in this part of the world? Infested with madmen and orcs? The signet ring he wore around his right ring finger perhaps may have been a clue. If anyone was familiar with the seals of magi.