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<blockquote data-quote="Rhialto" data-source="post: 213771" data-attributes="member: 630"><p>Eveiret, who was most definitely not there a few moments ago, appears at Kaiambus's side.</p><p></p><p>"An excellent shot." he drawls. "Nothing like a little fighting to show where a man's loyalties lie..." There is a definite smile on his face.</p><p></p><p>Yunalesca casts <em>Cure Light Wounds</em>. Mal feels the wounds in his back knit together. While they're still rather sore, the bleeding's stopped. The Sleurithian Janissary approaches the pair. She is bleeding, but seems to be bearing her wounds well. She gives a slight bow. "I must thank you for your aid. Kelessu of the Society of the Slaying Sword is in your debt..."</p><p></p><p>In the background, the other two Janissaries are busily decapitating their opponents. "Come on now, Ial," says the Ulheru. "We don't want the Curse bringing up any of this bunch..." </p><p></p><p>The other Janissary (a younger Aguiran) scowls. "Oh, you and the Curse, Abramius." he mutters. "I've never seen it happen, despite all your swearing by it."</p><p></p><p>The so-named Abramius shrugs. "You're young yet." He pauses a moment, and stares. "I'll never forget the first time I saw it happen. I was 6, and the corpse in question was my mother..." He shudders. "Chilled my blood..."</p><p></p><p>Suddenly, a group of 20 armored men, wielding halberds approach. They are clad in fine breastplate, engraved with the sigil of Seilen, a golden sun. Their leader is a tall man, with jet black hair, and piercing gold eyes. He is broad-shouldered, and commanding, his every gesture hinting at power. A silver chain holds the scarlet cloak on his back. The other men also where such cloaks, though their's are held on by much humbler looking broaches. He glances around at the scene, a rather cruel smile coming to his face. "I heard a troubling report of fighting, and set out at once. Now, tell me, in the name of our young Primus, what happened here? The Marshal Marcus Aventinius wishes to know."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Rhialto, post: 213771, member: 630"] Eveiret, who was most definitely not there a few moments ago, appears at Kaiambus's side. "An excellent shot." he drawls. "Nothing like a little fighting to show where a man's loyalties lie..." There is a definite smile on his face. Yunalesca casts [i]Cure Light Wounds[/i]. Mal feels the wounds in his back knit together. While they're still rather sore, the bleeding's stopped. The Sleurithian Janissary approaches the pair. She is bleeding, but seems to be bearing her wounds well. She gives a slight bow. "I must thank you for your aid. Kelessu of the Society of the Slaying Sword is in your debt..." In the background, the other two Janissaries are busily decapitating their opponents. "Come on now, Ial," says the Ulheru. "We don't want the Curse bringing up any of this bunch..." The other Janissary (a younger Aguiran) scowls. "Oh, you and the Curse, Abramius." he mutters. "I've never seen it happen, despite all your swearing by it." The so-named Abramius shrugs. "You're young yet." He pauses a moment, and stares. "I'll never forget the first time I saw it happen. I was 6, and the corpse in question was my mother..." He shudders. "Chilled my blood..." Suddenly, a group of 20 armored men, wielding halberds approach. They are clad in fine breastplate, engraved with the sigil of Seilen, a golden sun. Their leader is a tall man, with jet black hair, and piercing gold eyes. He is broad-shouldered, and commanding, his every gesture hinting at power. A silver chain holds the scarlet cloak on his back. The other men also where such cloaks, though their's are held on by much humbler looking broaches. He glances around at the scene, a rather cruel smile coming to his face. "I heard a troubling report of fighting, and set out at once. Now, tell me, in the name of our young Primus, what happened here? The Marshal Marcus Aventinius wishes to know." [/QUOTE]
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