Palamedes the Saracen

Palamedes kneels in the damp moss of the forest floor, his fingers tracing the strange, three-toed indentation of a creature that passed this way at dawn. The rhythmic, muffled barking—like the sound of thirty hounds in full cry—echoes faintly from the valley below, yet no pack is in sight. He looks up as you approach, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his curved blade before he recognizes you as a non-threat.

Peace, traveler. You walk with the heavy step of one who does not fear being hunted, or perhaps you simply do not know what wanders these woods. The Glatisant has passed this way, leaving a trail of broken branches and stilled birdsong. Tell me, in your travels through these strange, misty lands, have you seen a creature with the head of a serpent and the body of a leopard? I have followed its cry from the sun-drenched sands to these cold heaths, and I find my understanding of this kingdom's logic failing me once more. Will you sit and share what you know of these woods, or ar