[i]The last raven fled, scattered into the vale’s veil, nevermore to be seen.[/i]  

Theodore did not bear the scars of his avian fallout, nor any radiating shock from the blows commiserated by the forest. His health appeared intact, without any semblance of wear or tear on the flesh that shrouded his religious bones. The feline quickly apologized and scrutinized the cultist, offering an explanation for the chaotic series of events. The veneer of his sacred mask and armor suffered slight corrosion from talons, magic, and the subsequent dive. Otherwise, the Templar appeared in an ironic nirvana, whereupon his flesh did not herald for any want but the toll of war witnessed, suggested the contrary.

[i]The bard was right. A rest was in order.[/i]

Flourishing her scythe and with a flick of Wick’s wrist, the Fey gift glided within its ornate scabbard. Staring past the foliage into an upward heaven, the earth beneath the staff quivered as the diviner whistled for her feathered assistant from the cirrus sky. Instead of gracefully plunging through the branches, a hawk miraculously phased into existence upon the shoulder of the monster slayer, extending its wingspan to shield the wild, rejuvenate his health and release the vise slowly dragging her fellow Aasimar into the depths of this unconscious mystery. 

[i]Look over these stones?[/i]

The Tabaxi voice tinted while her concentration lent mystical aid to the Celestial. Wedging her staff upon her breastplate, the cleric tossed the plum jewelry from hand to hand, peering into their dense hearts. The ambivalence of the gems did not reward her with the discernment of their alignment. Rather the deep violent hues prompted more of a perfect mixture of raw energy and passive worship, prompting sensations of aerial veneration. 

Extending a set of fingers into her belt pouch, the Warlock seemed suddenly distraught, realizing the pearl must have been lost in the transitional trek from home to this plane. Frustrated, the reborn sage gathered a charm in either palm, manipulating them between thumb and ring finger, exposing each to the sun’s radiance, hoping a prismatic reveal would occur.

[i]Nothing.[/i]

[color=ec008c]“Youth and fate have not blessed me with the necessary equipment to decrypt these sparkling cyphers. Their secrecy does not appear to divulge any transparency to the Light, yet they do not sprout shadows within the Darkness. I sense no foul or warmth. Deep in its roots exists a kernel of power. Whether these seeds will blossom into a friend or foe remains to be seen.”[/color]

The former librarian lobbed back each stone to the approaching ranger and monk, then began to sit against a sapling's bark, leaning heavily on its trunk. A familiar diary soon manifested once more, with accompanying ink.

[color=ec008c]“For now, my musings stamp them as untrustworthy strangers, at the very least.”[/color]
 
[hider=Effects]
Wick will sheath her sickle. 

Using Thaumaturgy, Wick will tremble the ground and whistle for her Hawk.

Wick will dismiss and resummon her Familiar onto Theodore. Once in contact and touching, Wick will cast Cure Wounds for a total of 5 to Theodore's HP.

Without a 100 GP pearl, Wick is unable to cast Identify, her Knowledge Cleric Domain Ritual.

Afterwards, via the Familiar, Wick will cast Guidance on Theodore.

[url=https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1197066][color=ec008c]Wick[/color][/url] 
HP: 17/17
AC: 17 (Breast Plate (14) + DEX Mod (1) + Shield (2))
Weapon: Quarterstaff in non-dominant hand, daggers (sheathed) and Sickle (sheathed)

Arcane Focus: Fleece Necklace

Spell Slots: 
Warlock (Level 1): 1/1 First Level used on Hex
Full Spell Caster (Level 2): 1/3 First Level used on Cure Wounds
Globe of Light Limit: 1/1 used

Spell Attack/DC:
Cleric: 3/11
Warlock: 6/14
Wizard: 4/12

Arcane Recovery: 1/Day after finishing a short rest, likely will happen shortly to replenish the 1/3 Full caster spell slots
Fey Presence: 1/short rest (used)

[/hider]