The Great Grand Tale of Epicness

Twistle the Knobbut, round-faced and wide-eyed, watched in wonder as the noble figure approached his humble doorstep. Surely it could not be the High Druim himself, Aladore of Merlinia? Yet it could be none other. There was no mistaking his mighty stave of power and his flowing robes of deepest truest periwinkle blue. Twistle dropped his bag of lucky pebbles and stumbled to his feet.

"Aladore!" he squealed, waving a frantic stubby hand.

"Ah, Twistle," the Druim greeted him, ( peering down with his ancient, wise and sober eyes. )