“‘Course, there is one person still alive who knows where the Tower of the Antimage once stood,” the aged bard gave a hacking cough, his keen eyes measuring our interest. We silently passed a few gold across the table and that disappeared with all the others. This was getting expensive.
“The Antimage once took a lover, a Princess from some far distant land. When he found her in bed with one of his apprentices he bound her to a tree in the middle of the Bloodsmear Swamp, and he cursed her. She turned into a part of the tree, her limbs forming branches and roots, her body fused to the trunk, a part of the wood. For a few minutes at dawn she becomes a woman again as the first light touches her. She’s fated to live her life as a woman for just moments each day, for all eternity.”
Grell gave a low whistle, “Poor Princess.”
“Poor indeed; she’s been like that for close on three thousand years. Find her during those few precious minutes, and she might just tell you where the Tower is. After all, she lived there. Once.”
“What became of his apprentice?” Shelby asked as we turned to leave.
The old bard gave a wry smile, “How d’you think the Bloodsmear Swamp got it’s name?”
DAZ Studio + postwork