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<blockquote data-quote="GreyOne" data-source="post: 1214544" data-attributes="member: 858"><p>(BRAGON GAULT)</p><p></p><p><span style="color: White"><em>The memories return, every night, unbidden but relentless. The journey south with your father and Blacklock, across the mountain passes into Mourandar. Your hasty parting in Ancim and your travels apart throughout Medrivan. The meeting again in Mouran and the last few, strange days spent together before… </em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em>Then of course, it had all come to a head, in the great city of Mouran, among the teeming masses, in a decrepit warehouse, on a deserted street. You had never trusted Joffer. Since your father had hired him in Jeryda as his guide into the southern Grand Duchies, there was something odd about him you had sensed from the beginning. In the half dozen times you had met him before that terrible night, you had perceived the pale-eyed man had bad intentions. </em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em>You remember searching for your father with Blacklock, Ulfghar, Hander and Nado through the crumbling alleyways of the Tenderloin Quarter. The discovery of Lyat Gault’s mangled and bloodied corpse in the old warehouse had been the worst shock, of course. The blood had pooled about his bound legs and was being swarmed with rats. The stench of death had been heavy in the air. Your father had died terribly, tortured and cut to ribbons, nearly unrecognizable. </em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em>And as they dragged you raging from the building, Joffer had made his appearance. The twelve black-cloaked murderers about him conveyed his intention and you remember the pure rage that had burst free and taken over. You had attacked instantly, blindly striking forth. And your companions had fought too, desperately trying to avoid the whirring blades of these shadow-clad men. You remember seeing Hander opened from neck to groin, his shriek another notch in your list of betrayals. You never saw what happened to Blacklock. But you know you’ll never hear his ribald jests again. They ended that night as well. </em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em>And you remember the biting agony across your chest from Joffer’s blade, the Chofa poison already torturing your flesh, burning its way into your bloodstream. You remember Joffer’s smiling eyes and his words to you as you began to die: <span style="color: DarkOrange">“Just like your interfering father, whelp. Never knew when to quit. Greet him for me at the Crone’s Gate.” </span> You remember also Nado’s whirling blade, driving him back when you finally, mercifully faded away.</em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em></em></span></p><p><span style="color: White"><em>The memories come back, unbidden every night, and they haunt your dreams.</em></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="GreyOne, post: 1214544, member: 858"] (BRAGON GAULT) [COLOR=White][i]The memories return, every night, unbidden but relentless. The journey south with your father and Blacklock, across the mountain passes into Mourandar. Your hasty parting in Ancim and your travels apart throughout Medrivan. The meeting again in Mouran and the last few, strange days spent together before… Then of course, it had all come to a head, in the great city of Mouran, among the teeming masses, in a decrepit warehouse, on a deserted street. You had never trusted Joffer. Since your father had hired him in Jeryda as his guide into the southern Grand Duchies, there was something odd about him you had sensed from the beginning. In the half dozen times you had met him before that terrible night, you had perceived the pale-eyed man had bad intentions. You remember searching for your father with Blacklock, Ulfghar, Hander and Nado through the crumbling alleyways of the Tenderloin Quarter. The discovery of Lyat Gault’s mangled and bloodied corpse in the old warehouse had been the worst shock, of course. The blood had pooled about his bound legs and was being swarmed with rats. The stench of death had been heavy in the air. Your father had died terribly, tortured and cut to ribbons, nearly unrecognizable. And as they dragged you raging from the building, Joffer had made his appearance. The twelve black-cloaked murderers about him conveyed his intention and you remember the pure rage that had burst free and taken over. You had attacked instantly, blindly striking forth. And your companions had fought too, desperately trying to avoid the whirring blades of these shadow-clad men. You remember seeing Hander opened from neck to groin, his shriek another notch in your list of betrayals. You never saw what happened to Blacklock. But you know you’ll never hear his ribald jests again. They ended that night as well. And you remember the biting agony across your chest from Joffer’s blade, the Chofa poison already torturing your flesh, burning its way into your bloodstream. You remember Joffer’s smiling eyes and his words to you as you began to die: [COLOR=DarkOrange]“Just like your interfering father, whelp. Never knew when to quit. Greet him for me at the Crone’s Gate.” [/COLOR] You remember also Nado’s whirling blade, driving him back when you finally, mercifully faded away. The memories come back, unbidden every night, and they haunt your dreams.[/i][/COLOR] [/QUOTE]
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