When the summer comes and our branches bloom, our leaves proliferate and draw in the sun, our days are glorious and nights alive with the sounds of crickets and of course with love.
Oh, but there I go distracting myself with earthly delights while my audience wonders what tangent I"ve taken.
So this Sorcerer who declares his name Travert Crepitans Pictor and whose look declared the evil in his soul ventured among us to inveigle us with promises of comity and praises of blandishings to persuade us to allow him to build a colony on our lands overlooking the sea. He assuaged our concerns with assurances of recompense and was vague with his purpose in wanting our lands as locale.
Why did we believe him? It would be simple to say we don"t know, to dismiss the decision as an ill-considered ch
