Words of the Constant
The "moon" is on the wane.
The "moon" is waxing.
But does it look as sharp as me?
Go on. Axe me what the moon's made of.
Nearly as sharp as I am, but with a garish glow.
"Moon" detritus.
I suppose life finds a way.
This will make a decent magical vessel.
They always need an offering.
"Moon" rock.
Oooh, some new knowledge.
This might be bad.
I'd rather not peek inside.
It's been turned to glass.
Hm. This may be useful.
There are hardly enough inventors brave enough to harness the power of potatoes.
They give off a rather unsettling sensation.
What is he meddling with?
Just my luck. It's empty.
There's power trapped inside.
Hmm, not your typical magic.
Yes. I desire the knowledge of the moon.
There is powerful energy pouring out of it.
Why do I get the sense... ah, I'm sure it's nothing.
It is not yet time?
This powerful energy... I've seen it before.
This is not its desired destination.
I know where you need to be.
Let me know your wishes, and I will oblige.
Events have been set into motion...
The thing inside wants out.
The thing inside wants out.
The thing inside wants out.
Where shall I take you?
I'll take you to the others.
Strange, my eyelids are getting heavy just looking at it.
Odd, but not unpleasant.
I don't see why I must be the one to do all the work.
How odd to be the one laboring on a machine for an unknown purpose...
That old fool...
It's not shadow magic.
I've more important things to deal with than holes in the ground.
It's almost genius in its simplicity... but it does smell.
It's burning.
A burnt tree stump.
Someone's chopped it down already.
It's a moon tree.
It came from that odd tree.
They're all shrivelled up.
It's definitely from the North, whatever that is.