The faint plea of Uckthar’s supplicant penetrated the
thick, sleepy haze that had settled on his mind. It tickled his brain, the way
a sparrow tickles a tree branch as it hops along. He brushed it away with a
thought. The plea came again, this time nipping at him like a puppy eager to
play. He tried to ignore it. Eventually though, the persistent call overcame
his perpetual lethargy and he bent his will towards the old man in the small
shrine. He heard the man’s words and sighed. It would require a great
expenditure for even that simple request.
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