>>5922742>>5922752>>5922785>>5923287>>5923367”I thought my name was Bobbington Duckworth. Or, Snuff Sigurdsson, depending on who you ask..” You admit. "Bobbington.. Du-Saint-Winifred?" You hope that's not your name.. sounds pretty lame.
You watch something lurch in the dark–something massive, so big it’s hard for you to parse at first–a green hand that slips from the void and into your field of view. The hand is gnarled, warped like bark, and holds up three fingers. You watch it extend, unnaturally, the forearm just a little too long and the fingers a little too thin.
>”BOBBINGTON DUCKWORTH, the son of Snorri Duckworth, the carpenter and baker. The name of a sickly country boy in breeches a size too big and ears he hides beneath floppy hats.” A finger lowers. “SNUFF SIGURDSSON, apprentice errant to the Great Witch Sigrid de Hautdesert the Disinherited. The name of a wizard who trails in the path of his master’s shadow like a gosling after its mother.” The god lowers another finger–just one remains. The god’s eyes whirl into your heart.
>”And..” His voice rumbles low and deep. “The son of the Wild God Leshy, He From the Forest. You are just like me, boy. You have the potential to be a deity, with real power–not the sparks you toy with now, but an ancient, chthonic magic that belongs only to us.. only to the great, green wilds.” 