To: O'Hara who wrote (12034 ) 3/21/1998 1:26:00 PM From: Graystone Respond to
A White Morning or The man dressed in gray snatched up his shield, no blazon flashed through through. Girt with heavy sword, undrawn, he rose to meet another entrant to the glade, where all stood. The foul creatures of the night had come and gone. The innocent frolicked, unaware of the small drama unfolding. The stranger held his ground, keeping the group huddled against each other, claiming safety before a tired looking farmer. The farmers worn hands and wrinkled mien failed to hide his goodness, though he was often confused and uncertain. His safety was His Lords. He stood with a small wooden cross at arms length. The group huddled behind him and Nancy cried to see the Crone in such great danger. Wise in the ways of the world she had been a true friend to Nancy. The new entrant to the glade was a powerful looking figure. Clearly his white robes shone forth, the tomes of his learning plain for all to see. Familiar he was, a member of the backbone of the Body. He contrasted starkly to the other cleric there already, also a familiar site in his dark Robes. The stranger in gray glanced at the brow of this new cleric. He turned to his companion, watch these people, and went to meet the Stranger.
