From the writings of Listratha Bailiwick, sorcerer apprentice of Motoman Nine Eyes
This westerling land is vast..and old.. and full of ghosts. It is not like the Blightlands, however, not at all, it is more like the presence of things familiar, lost in their own memories or watching with kind detachment perhaps.. I remember returning to the house of my grandmother, years later, though derelict and abandoned, I could feel her there.
I have hunted for months, my studies of the various dialects have proven invaluable, yet have found nothing regarding the koan. The ancient libraries at Tynnic Gael are ashes and dust, the surviving scrolls crumble at a touch..
And then I woke to find this curious being sitting on a stone, right in my camp, fiddling with his nails. He bypassed my wards like they were water. Silderus he calls himself, his voice is musical, his movements.. whimsical.. and yet I trust him, somehow, he has a kind energy.
He has promised aid in exchange for aid.