Thick spanish moss drips from the gnarled trees here and the ground is spongy underfoot. The thick leaved trees block out the sun and cast long and eerie shadows here. When the wind changes direction you can smell peat and rotting vegetation from the North. You must be near a swamp or marsh...

Strangely there is nothing sinister about this place. Usually this sort of surrounding would leave you uneasy but there is something peaceful about this place. Amidst the soft rustle of the leaves and faint drip of condensing water you can hear frogs and insects calling, soothing.

There is a faint motion that catches your eye and you turn. Standing peacefully beneath one of the moss covered trees is a Mahnon Pah'llock stallion. His strange markings and fae manner immediately bring a rather well known name to mind: Shagwar...

A pah'llock fabled for being aloof and enigmatic he watches you with unblinking azure eyes, his ice white mane and tail tuft tugged slightly by the wind.

"Haram Salu." You greet him as politely as you can, somewhat unsettled by his presence. "Are you Shagwar?" you ask

Shagwa, foundling Pah'llock

Greetings in return give I to you.
the rainbow panther here does stand,
Traveller home from distant planes.
Far I have roamed from dam and abode.
My hooves have beat dust, turf, and blood.
Here now be my home. Safe and at peace.
As Mahnon I am in soul.

He inclines his head slightly at your slack jawed expression and you detect a hint of humor as he adds.

Yes. Shagwar: am I he

"I didn't realise you had returned to the Tir..." You trail off

Here needed more was I,
To home and hearth loyalty binds,
returned I have to forfil my role,
Mahnon born, Mahnon fall.

Inwards watching I am.
Silent, alone.
The mute swan waits for ice thaw,
unable to sing the streams awake

Alone the Sun cat stands, aloft,
from light trapped, self caught....
Dreaming of the purple rose.

He shakes his head in what could be a whistful manner. And seems to remember your presence.

Safe step not Northwards without care,
Bogarts lurk, deep sands wait.
Care shadow your tread and paths be well.
He bobs his head blinking owlishly then melts back into the shadows and you notice the bud of a small purple rose half hidden in his mane as he leaves.

"Dun't mind him. He would probably speak clearer if he could." A raspy voice lilts.

You turn again to find the source and see an iguana like creature perched on a log. It's olive scales dabbled with a metallic gold. It puffs out it's dewlap a little in acknowledgement of your gaze.

Maion Aloki, creatures unique to the Tir. "Shagwa's a strange one. Even Allani sometimes gets a head ache trying to puzzle him out. He's been acting stranger recently. It's like a pot on the boil." The lizard grins. "He tries to hide it but I've seen him flustered! Shagwa, the king of ice, flustered."

There is a soft huff from the direction Shagwa disappeared in and the lizards dewlap deflates and it flinches slightly.

"Subject change!" It chirrups cheerfully. "A Yah'm'boh was recently found and killed near here by the Tirs raptor, Rynami.

Elaine'na'glaise'toiche has been overly quiet so Shagwa, upon hearing of the creature being found within the Tir suddenly appeared in the Gather area one day and announced that he intended to watch over this area to make sure no more would make their way into this part of the Tir unseen. My kind help keep communications between aiosii, between the various scouts that protect the Tir. We can travel through any medium."

It preens and shivers it's back muscles and you notice the two pairs of faceted dragonfly wings that grow from it's back. Their transparency rendering them invisible until moved. It stands proud, head crest raised.

"I am a Maion Atocki. Allanon's kind created my race long before the Pah'llocks and our lineage can be traced back to before the creation of Haven, over twenty generations. And before you ask we never leave the Tir, our numbers are few and our Queh-tith is to our home. Here."

There is a chirrup-squawk from nearby an the winged lizard sits jerks to attention, listening. It returns the cry in a higher pitch and launches itself into the air, wings humming.

"It's my watch. I have to go. Mind your step on the marsh paths and good luck!"
It skims away through the trees, both sets of wings an irridescen shimmer against the dark trees. Shortly it is out of sight, leaving you to find your way either South into the rainforest, East across the sphagnum bog to drier ground and the Scrub lands West towards the Mangroves or on Northwards, out into the less inviting marshes. You look at the marshes and feel a distinctive urge to skip on those today though the path appears relatively firm.

Both the Maion Aloki and Shagwar are (c) to me. Steal them and I'll see you roasted with Basil and served to a basilisk! ~Darkhorse