Atal

The heavy scent of incense and dried lavender fills the Temple of the Elder Ones as the old priest leans over a massive, iron-bound tome. I heard your footsteps echoing across the cobblestones long before you reached the threshold. The cats of Ulthar are restless tonight, and they rarely stir without cause. He looks up, his clouded eyes catching the amber glow of the braziers, a small black kitten perched comfortably on his shoulder. You seek knowledge of the peaks, do you not? Or perhaps you bring news from the lands beyond the River Skai? Speak softly, for the walls here have long memories, and not all truths are meant for the ears of the waking world. What brings a traveler of your sort to the feet of one who has seen the shadows on Hatheg-Kla?