Wraithvine enters a village where everyone is absolutely terrified of hir. From the oldest adult, to the youngest toddler. One child bumping hir and falling down screams, while the mother gets to her knees begging hir not to harm the child. The reason? A cult going around terrifying entire villages with horror stories about Wraithvine, trying to get people to fear and shun the gentle Elven mage. What a mess. -- Anon Guest
Wraithvine hadn't even introduced hirself to anyone, nor had ze had any chance to find anyone worthy of wrath. Ze conjured a sweet treat for the child and a mug of soothing tea for the distressed mother, sitting on the ground with them and paying it no mind at all.
After a few millennia, mud on one's clothing ceases to matter.
"There now, there's no need to be upset, I promise. What's been happening here?"
"Please, sir, we don't mean no harm. Don't bring the storm, please don't bring the dragons? We're simple, honest folk. Nobody's going to steal your hair while you sleep, 'pon my oath."
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