Ottokath's Journal: Conceptual dream
A clearing at the edge of a small lake opens before you. Shimmering red with the light of a setting sun at your back, it takes on a ruby hue. Autumn leaves filling the air, coating the forest floor in their brownish-red. Birds can be heard in the distance, just from sight. At the edge of the lake, on a small wooden platform sits an elf next to a pot of freshly brewed tea. Younger than you remember and in pristine, yet simple clothing, sits Ottokath, gazing off across the lake. No beard hides his face now and his hair is well kept and half the length of what you remember. Longing clouds his eyes as he gazes into the distance. A pillow awaits ten feet from him.
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