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The Kalarian Precipice - Chapter Five
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<blockquote data-quote="97mg" data-source="post: 7411067" data-attributes="member: 6799460"><p><strong>Decisions</strong></p><p></p><p>Annit nodded. Dain was right. Let the gifted ones, those more versed in religion, magic and possible skull-release consequences determine Magaw’s fate.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: #0000cd">“You’re not cruel,” </span>she said, pleased that the ranger was talking and any acid-induced chest pains weren’t overcoming him. <span style="color: #0000cd">“We’re what we were made to be I guess, either through our own decisions or those of others. This place, I can feel it changing us. All of us. For better or worse I do not know.”</span></p><p><span style="color: #0000cd"></span></p><p>She turned to look into Dain’s eyes. Such a strange fellow, unpredictable, sometimes distant, a man of the wilds and freedom lured into a stonewalled darkness. <span style="color: #0000cd">“Even now, I know I can do things that were impossible before.” </span>A quiet laugh then, before Annit says <span style="color: #0000cd">“we are in a pickle. And we are being pickled by the powers down here too. Poison, the sounds of a funeral bell, trickery to the eye, like daydreams these things are conjured in my thoughts, like pulling the impossible out of a dream, and placing it into the real world.”</span></p><p></p><p>An honorable thief? It depended very much on perspective. <span style="color: #0000cd">“You are kind too, Dain, in your own way. Me? I guess I am when I can be. The bloodline didn’t always demand kindness however.”</span> She goes quiet then, uncertain if this should be elaborated on. Probably not the time and place. Few were those she’d confess to. Protecting secrets didn’t always go hand in hand with what might be best for the odd civilian. </p><p></p><p>In the much warmer and more populated confines of the hall, the discussion with the captive head continues. <span style="color: #008000">“Boring? Oh yes it must appear that way,”</span> the skull replies to the Tiefling, <span style="color: #008000">“but when you can’t do… well… what your mind dictates that you must, then it seems a choice is made. Perish or patience. Me? I chose the latter.”</span></p><p></p><p>Looking back to the priest, he seems pleased. <span style="color: #008000">“Alone. Yes, it would be nice not to have to remain here as such. Should you choose to free me, then a debt will be owed, of that I am certain. In some way, it will be paid to you. Ah the cage. This is no forge-beaten iron my friend. The very bars are devil’s work. All that enters these bars, be they fingers or tools, have gifts and magic made void. It is how they kept me here, powerless, a cube of cancellation of sorts. Of a key I am uncertain, though there is a lock on the opposite side. Oh the irony you see? Without mammoth strength nor even hands to bend with, of my containment the fiends were certain. I am sure though, that with distance from these evil irons, I might regain a little more of my former self. Not in body though, but in mind and memory.”</span></p><p></p><p>His empty sockets move to Jeovanna, almost hinting at the idea. <span style="color: #008000">“She is strong. I had a front row seat to that fight. Question is, is she gifted in the arts of gods or arcana? For my sake… I hope not, and that she might be persuaded in your cause. It looks as though you too, have paid a toll for your entry here.”</span> The skull nods in the direction of the dwarf, quietly sleeping thanks to recently digested fungal “brew”.</p><p></p><p>He spoke with Otiroth then. <span style="color: #008000">“With the Pitchlings I have no quarrel. They had their reasons I suppose, on when and what to interfere with, that I respect. Lives were saved and they were rewarded for it. Do not underestimate the poison of greed though, friends. Even folks closer than family and born of same blood have become enemies, in the lust for the old treasures once locked in these walls.”</span></p><p><em></em></p><p><em><span style="color: #008000">Ah, look! The fighter comes closer...</span></em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="97mg, post: 7411067, member: 6799460"] [b]Decisions[/b] Annit nodded. Dain was right. Let the gifted ones, those more versed in religion, magic and possible skull-release consequences determine Magaw’s fate. [COLOR=#0000cd]“You’re not cruel,” [/COLOR]she said, pleased that the ranger was talking and any acid-induced chest pains weren’t overcoming him. [COLOR=#0000cd]“We’re what we were made to be I guess, either through our own decisions or those of others. This place, I can feel it changing us. All of us. For better or worse I do not know.” [/COLOR] She turned to look into Dain’s eyes. Such a strange fellow, unpredictable, sometimes distant, a man of the wilds and freedom lured into a stonewalled darkness. [COLOR=#0000cd]“Even now, I know I can do things that were impossible before.” [/COLOR]A quiet laugh then, before Annit says [COLOR=#0000cd]“we are in a pickle. And we are being pickled by the powers down here too. Poison, the sounds of a funeral bell, trickery to the eye, like daydreams these things are conjured in my thoughts, like pulling the impossible out of a dream, and placing it into the real world.”[/COLOR] An honorable thief? It depended very much on perspective. [COLOR=#0000cd]“You are kind too, Dain, in your own way. Me? I guess I am when I can be. The bloodline didn’t always demand kindness however.”[/COLOR] She goes quiet then, uncertain if this should be elaborated on. Probably not the time and place. Few were those she’d confess to. Protecting secrets didn’t always go hand in hand with what might be best for the odd civilian. In the much warmer and more populated confines of the hall, the discussion with the captive head continues. [COLOR=#008000]“Boring? Oh yes it must appear that way,”[/COLOR] the skull replies to the Tiefling, [COLOR=#008000]“but when you can’t do… well… what your mind dictates that you must, then it seems a choice is made. Perish or patience. Me? I chose the latter.”[/COLOR] Looking back to the priest, he seems pleased. [COLOR=#008000]“Alone. Yes, it would be nice not to have to remain here as such. Should you choose to free me, then a debt will be owed, of that I am certain. In some way, it will be paid to you. Ah the cage. This is no forge-beaten iron my friend. The very bars are devil’s work. All that enters these bars, be they fingers or tools, have gifts and magic made void. It is how they kept me here, powerless, a cube of cancellation of sorts. Of a key I am uncertain, though there is a lock on the opposite side. Oh the irony you see? Without mammoth strength nor even hands to bend with, of my containment the fiends were certain. I am sure though, that with distance from these evil irons, I might regain a little more of my former self. Not in body though, but in mind and memory.”[/COLOR] His empty sockets move to Jeovanna, almost hinting at the idea. [COLOR=#008000]“She is strong. I had a front row seat to that fight. Question is, is she gifted in the arts of gods or arcana? For my sake… I hope not, and that she might be persuaded in your cause. It looks as though you too, have paid a toll for your entry here.”[/COLOR] The skull nods in the direction of the dwarf, quietly sleeping thanks to recently digested fungal “brew”. He spoke with Otiroth then. [COLOR=#008000]“With the Pitchlings I have no quarrel. They had their reasons I suppose, on when and what to interfere with, that I respect. Lives were saved and they were rewarded for it. Do not underestimate the poison of greed though, friends. Even folks closer than family and born of same blood have become enemies, in the lust for the old treasures once locked in these walls.”[/COLOR] [I] [COLOR=#008000]Ah, look! The fighter comes closer...[/COLOR][/I] [/QUOTE]
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