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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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<blockquote data-quote="SolidSnake_01" data-source="post: 7543391" data-attributes="member: 63254"><p><strong>Journal of Jordan Cranden II - Entry II</strong></p><p></p><p>Much has happened in the last few days. Where do I begin? Perhaps I should continue where I left off - back at Diamond Lake.</p><p>_________________</p><p></p><p>My mount arrived shortly after the fightenend peasant departed. Was I seeing things? Was someone atop Ember? But as the mount approached, the figment dissipated - it seemed that the hellfire that coursed through the creature had merely given a puff of acrid brimstone vapor that took humanoid shape. My mind was playing tricks on me. I could never quite shake the feeling that Asmodeus was keeping tabs on me. But such was an exercise in pure hubris. I was just another soul, trudging its way closer to payment. Whatever purpose I served was over and done with long ago.</p><p></p><p>Our trot through the remaining forest was in solitude. Treig had gone ahead and did not rejoin me until we reached Diamond Lake. I suppose I was no longer really fulfilling my end of the agreement. I was still perplexed by the Suelese Witches, though. The deaths of not one but two prominent magi with sage-like knowledge of these worms - this was a tremendous amount of effort to keep a secret...and now Suel?!? I had long been searching for connections between what happened all those years ago and the Outer Planes. Was this more tangential evidence? To attract powers around the world, it certainly had potential. </p><p></p><p>It was slow going. Ember's forge-hot hooves left unmistakable tracks - no not, tracks, brands in the earth - especially on stone. It wouldn't be hard to piece this together - for anyone that cared: my servants telling tales of a man transformed into a devil out of the Nine Hells. A devil whom had been heading towards Diamond Lake with tracks branded into the stone for anyone to follow. How about the fact that he personally took on a giant and a trio of hags? That's probably how the story would be told. Never mind the fact that I was escorting someone who had the very communications of the magi in the first place and he did all the heavy lifting in the fight. Such a bittersweet symphony of irony.</p><p></p><p>Amidst my musings, I realized I was finding Ember's heat strangely reassuring. I'd been summoning him now for over several decades. I could never know exactly what would greet me when I performed the summoning ritual. It was a bit ironic - to feel sentimental about a creature that would as soon as kill me as serve me, but for the magic that summoned it. I was so intertwined, now, with the Nine Hells. At one time, I rode atop Hope - the prized stallion of the Aerdy line. He was magnificent. The Rauxes had long since squandered his line and breeding. Such a shame. </p><p></p><p>My mind had wandered all the way back to Kargoth by the time we reached Diamond Lake. The town was a smoldering ruin. Townsfolk meandered around aimlessly - those that weren't trying to put out fires. Half of the town had been razed and the other half was in the midst of fiery destruction. The useful were trying to contain the fire. The dragon's attack had truly been recent - within the past day. But the shouts and screams coming from the group tackling the fire sounded a lot more like shouts of alarm. But something else was out of place - something far less mundane. Anger. A white hot, righteous, soul-ripping anger. It came from the opposite direction of the fires in the quiet section of town. Whatever was going on, that anger needed direction or containment. </p><p></p><p>A magi was channeling water from the lake towards the fires and Treig was speaking with a town representative. I didn't catch his name. The fires could wait - the vulnerable would have already been evacuated. The fire fight was about property salvage and the fate of the town, itself, had already been sealed. When Treig and the representative approached, I advised I'd be heading to the razed section - much to their surprise. But they followed, nevertheless.</p><p></p><p>The anger was like a beacon - a siren's call. How could they not feel it - even without supernatural spiritual awareness. I feared this anger might literally wake the dead. And then I felt a more subtle signal...coming from our guide/representative. Such a shame, that. He'd probably been infected by a worm from the undead dragon. Such a small signal must have been drowned out by whatever had died in this section of town. Our guide would have to be put down. But not yet. Judging by reports from the arena, he'd only have a few hours. But for now, he was still useful. </p><p></p><p>We were close to the anger now. My mind momentarily wandered - how many had been infected. How many would have to be put down? Death comes to us all. And then the anger exploded through the nearest wall of a still semi-standing structure. I wasn't paying attention. A whirlwind of debris from the angry spirit pummeled me. The guide was still sentient enough to possess self-preservation and fled while Trieg steadied a crossbow bolt at it. But this was beyond any of them. I summoned the infernal energy that powered me and bent the creature's will to mine. "Yes. YESSSSSSS. You are angry. You ARE ANGRY!!! Take vengeance on those that have robbed you of your most precious possession - your life. Take vengeance on them." I could feel that anger turn cold. I could feel it channeled into a point, as if it was chambered into a crossbow and ready, waiting. The maelstrom of debris whirling about the creature died down. Just a few pieces now wantonly swirled lazily about. "I will take you. Follow me."</p><p></p><p>Treig looked on non-plussed. But the guide was awestruck. We returned to the burning section of town. Several newly cauterized corpses littered the ground. Apparently, this property was worth their lives. I understood sentiment - I had once attributed it to worldly possessions as well. We could see a group of the fire brigade losing ground to what could only be described as living fire. Someone explained that when the fires hit Allustan's laboratory (the recently deceased town magi), that something came alive and was now continuing to spread the fires. It consumed anything came in contact with it. I wanted to summon the armor, but there were too many around. I'd need to be careful. I tapped into the frozen layer of Hell and encased myself in unholy protections and then cautiously approached. The living fire overran and consumed several more of the brigade and was upon me. This was no elemental. It was more of an ooze - an ooze ablaze, and the fire seemed to feed it! It swung a pseudopod. I had anticipated this and prepared a Ward. My miscalculation was painful. It wasn't fire. It was ON fire, but it was not fire. It was acid. Its 'pseudopod' washed over me eating through my garments, travel pack, satchel, sizable sum of money I brought on the trip, and all useful equipment in a fraction of a second. My magical protections were undone and my naked flesh exposed.</p><p></p><p>Most men would have screamed. But what few realize is that third degree burns - whether acid or otherwise - are actually quite anesthetic. Besides, the transitioning second degree burns were nothing in comparison to the chains that ripped through my body and soul on a regular basis. I was furious - mostly at myself. "This is a direct manifestation of what killed you, spirit" With my release, the undead pounded the magical creation with debris and with the help of a few of the townsfolk and Treig's crossbow bolts, the creature was destroyed. I wasn't anticipating using up my entire healing reserve just for this, but so be it. My skin regenerated. I'm sure the sight of a mostly naked nobleman followed by a vengeful spirit was quite a sight, but I paid them no mind.</p><p></p><p>Our guide, apparently his name was Lief, had explained to Treig that his instructions had changed with the death of Allustan and that he should instead deliver the package to the magi's apprentice, Egan. The fires still raged but were no longer being actively spread. There was something very peculiar about the spiritual signal from Lief. The signal was not proliferating as I expected, but then, my encounters with the worms had been so long ago, and the reports could be exaggerated. Regardless, he still seemed to be of sound mind and body and bid us follow him out of town. And yet, I could not shake the sense that somehow this was a trap.</p><p></p><p>How did word of Allustan's death spread so quickly that with us - on our way to Diamond Lake - passing only one person, informed us of the recent news - how did Treig's employer acquire the information so quickly to give him new instructions? Was this man somehow in league with Suel? In my experience, most that had ever tried to play the Great Game found that when I 'stumbled' into the center of their web, that I was actually a spider, myself. Moreover, the quickest way to learn a web's design was to tread upon it. And so we departed, leaving the ruins of Diamond Lake in our wake. And the spirit's anger churned in misery and vengeance as it left its worldly home behind.</p><p>_____________________</p><p></p><p>We traveled North. A storm was gathering - far too quickly to be natural, but not so quickly to prevent our travel. We crested a hill and there beyond the copse of trees was a crater. At its center - a dead black dragon - presumably the remains of what razed Diamond Lake. But it was not alone. A clutch of similarly scaled kobolds were performing some sort of ritual - their rhythmic chanting barely audible above the gathering winds. This abomination could not be permitted unlife again. Treig had already begun his approach. Partly to mask his approach and partly because I held no fear of these creatures, I broke from the treeline at a determined walk. Once I had gathered the attention of those kobolds nearby, I summoned my armor so none could mistake me for the threat I was to them. Treig had already engaged with one of the kobold shamans.</p><p></p><p>"Spirit, these are the ones responsible! You see the dragon there, it and its clutch caused your death. Take your vengeance!" Even though we were heavily outnumbered, the kobolds proved no match. Even the shamans were powerless against us. The kobold's intent was revealed when one recently killed dropped a glass flask. The flask shattered upon hitting the ground and a green worm wriggled its way into the dead creature's body. Beherit quickly ended any potential threat the worm-infested dead body could offer. Two surrendered by the end. I beheaded the first. The spirit was destroyed during the battle but perhaps its soul could now rest easy having exacted vengeance.</p><p></p><p>The most surprising part of the fight was not the kobolds nor even the worms, but Lief. With reckless abandon he attacked the kobolds - though ineffectually. His self-preservation was apparently waning. I feared Beherit would drink yet another soul this day. At the end of the battle, it all became clear. Lief had not been infected. He had been possessed - by the ghost of Allustan. Allustan emerged from the soldier as the last kobold surrendered. </p><p></p><p>This man, this guide, this soldier, he was not infected! The dragon, the kobolds, the undead, and the living alchemical acid had all been destroyed. Who knows, perhaps he'd be able to live the rest of his life in peace and put all this behind him. His name was Lief. Relieved of my cynicism, for the briefest of moments, I became that Knight Protector of long ago - romantic, idealist. And then I heard Beherit's laugh - a profane, dark, infernal sound inside my mind. Taunting with both hate and contempt he said, "But you promised me a drink."</p><p></p><p>I had wielded the sword carelessly. He did not drink the souls of the kobolds who'd died. I thought he was dormant. His eyes were closed. I stared out of a body I no longer controlled. In the midst of battle, seeing a green worm in the flesh, Allustan's ghost - in the midst of it all, I had lost control and Beherit had taken over. Had I decided to behead the kobold. Had I not decided? I hadn't really given it much thought. Was it just? Perhaps. But had I made the decision? When had I lost control precisely. A prisoner in my own body, I watched Beherit's eyes open and the sword flare to life.</p><p></p><p>It all happened in slow motion. I tried to cry out, but no voice came. Beherit had complete control. Like a child, Lief was awakening as if from a dream. As he was turning to look around, Beherit impaled him from behind. It was a mortal wound. Entering in through his lower back and sprouting forth from his upper chest. I could feel my arm twist and curve as it moved with supernatural strength. Beherit sheathed in Lief's flesh unleashed hellfire and molten hot chains - the pinnacle of pain as they tore Lief's soul from his body and consumed it. The only outwardly visual manifestation was hellfire erupting from every orifice of Lief's body, and while horrific, it was nothing compared to what happened within. I had experienced this. I knew the pain. The husk of his body collapsed to its knees and then completely to the ground as it disintegrated into ash.</p><p></p><p>Treig witnessed this all silently. Even he was taken aback by the savage horror of it all. And it all happened so quickly, even if he wanted to, there was little he could have done to stop it. A testament to his composure, he addressed Allustan.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, my soul screamed in its shackles. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!</p><p></p><p>Like a caged animal I tried to claw my way into control. But Beherit's control was absolute. I growled curses and profanities at Beherit - in infernal and abyssal alike. I became like the angry spirit. Comprehensible speech ended. My soul projected rage-filled emotion. Any empath would have likely been knocked unconscious. </p><p></p><p>But it didn't matter. Lief's ashes quickly scattered to the oncoming storm. I lost track of Treig and Allustan's ghost. Chuckling, Beherit released his grip on me and I was myself once again. I must have been standing their locked in position wrestling for control for a long time, because my right arm was completely numb. I saw Treig cresting the rise of the next hill towards the Cairn. Beherit still sat in my hand, his eyes closed once again. I threw the blade away as hard as I could. It was petulant for its futility. Beherit sliced a gouge into the earth and then disappeared - summoned back into its soul sheathe, inside of me. I was drained, the mental effort and turmoil exhausting me. This is who I am, a menace, a murderer. There was the path I chose instead of insanity, undeath, and chaos. I cannot claim innocence. My choices led to Lief's death, and so many Liefs before him. I don't know why I was so affected this time. Perhaps it was the realization of his salvation, only to personally take it away. The cruelty of it all was particularly wicked.</p><p></p><p>Stealing myself back to cynicism, I knelt down over where Lief had fallen. The storm was picking up. I wanted to say a prayer...but who would I pray to? Who would listen to the likes of me? I disgusted myself. I blanked my mind the way I had learned from a Suelese monk so long ago - when I was still fully human seeking a cure. I heard myself say: "His name was Lief". And I wept.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="SolidSnake_01, post: 7543391, member: 63254"] [B]Journal of Jordan Cranden II - Entry II[/B] Much has happened in the last few days. Where do I begin? Perhaps I should continue where I left off - back at Diamond Lake. _________________ My mount arrived shortly after the fightenend peasant departed. Was I seeing things? Was someone atop Ember? But as the mount approached, the figment dissipated - it seemed that the hellfire that coursed through the creature had merely given a puff of acrid brimstone vapor that took humanoid shape. My mind was playing tricks on me. I could never quite shake the feeling that Asmodeus was keeping tabs on me. But such was an exercise in pure hubris. I was just another soul, trudging its way closer to payment. Whatever purpose I served was over and done with long ago. Our trot through the remaining forest was in solitude. Treig had gone ahead and did not rejoin me until we reached Diamond Lake. I suppose I was no longer really fulfilling my end of the agreement. I was still perplexed by the Suelese Witches, though. The deaths of not one but two prominent magi with sage-like knowledge of these worms - this was a tremendous amount of effort to keep a secret...and now Suel?!? I had long been searching for connections between what happened all those years ago and the Outer Planes. Was this more tangential evidence? To attract powers around the world, it certainly had potential. It was slow going. Ember's forge-hot hooves left unmistakable tracks - no not, tracks, brands in the earth - especially on stone. It wouldn't be hard to piece this together - for anyone that cared: my servants telling tales of a man transformed into a devil out of the Nine Hells. A devil whom had been heading towards Diamond Lake with tracks branded into the stone for anyone to follow. How about the fact that he personally took on a giant and a trio of hags? That's probably how the story would be told. Never mind the fact that I was escorting someone who had the very communications of the magi in the first place and he did all the heavy lifting in the fight. Such a bittersweet symphony of irony. Amidst my musings, I realized I was finding Ember's heat strangely reassuring. I'd been summoning him now for over several decades. I could never know exactly what would greet me when I performed the summoning ritual. It was a bit ironic - to feel sentimental about a creature that would as soon as kill me as serve me, but for the magic that summoned it. I was so intertwined, now, with the Nine Hells. At one time, I rode atop Hope - the prized stallion of the Aerdy line. He was magnificent. The Rauxes had long since squandered his line and breeding. Such a shame. My mind had wandered all the way back to Kargoth by the time we reached Diamond Lake. The town was a smoldering ruin. Townsfolk meandered around aimlessly - those that weren't trying to put out fires. Half of the town had been razed and the other half was in the midst of fiery destruction. The useful were trying to contain the fire. The dragon's attack had truly been recent - within the past day. But the shouts and screams coming from the group tackling the fire sounded a lot more like shouts of alarm. But something else was out of place - something far less mundane. Anger. A white hot, righteous, soul-ripping anger. It came from the opposite direction of the fires in the quiet section of town. Whatever was going on, that anger needed direction or containment. A magi was channeling water from the lake towards the fires and Treig was speaking with a town representative. I didn't catch his name. The fires could wait - the vulnerable would have already been evacuated. The fire fight was about property salvage and the fate of the town, itself, had already been sealed. When Treig and the representative approached, I advised I'd be heading to the razed section - much to their surprise. But they followed, nevertheless. The anger was like a beacon - a siren's call. How could they not feel it - even without supernatural spiritual awareness. I feared this anger might literally wake the dead. And then I felt a more subtle signal...coming from our guide/representative. Such a shame, that. He'd probably been infected by a worm from the undead dragon. Such a small signal must have been drowned out by whatever had died in this section of town. Our guide would have to be put down. But not yet. Judging by reports from the arena, he'd only have a few hours. But for now, he was still useful. We were close to the anger now. My mind momentarily wandered - how many had been infected. How many would have to be put down? Death comes to us all. And then the anger exploded through the nearest wall of a still semi-standing structure. I wasn't paying attention. A whirlwind of debris from the angry spirit pummeled me. The guide was still sentient enough to possess self-preservation and fled while Trieg steadied a crossbow bolt at it. But this was beyond any of them. I summoned the infernal energy that powered me and bent the creature's will to mine. "Yes. YESSSSSSS. You are angry. You ARE ANGRY!!! Take vengeance on those that have robbed you of your most precious possession - your life. Take vengeance on them." I could feel that anger turn cold. I could feel it channeled into a point, as if it was chambered into a crossbow and ready, waiting. The maelstrom of debris whirling about the creature died down. Just a few pieces now wantonly swirled lazily about. "I will take you. Follow me." Treig looked on non-plussed. But the guide was awestruck. We returned to the burning section of town. Several newly cauterized corpses littered the ground. Apparently, this property was worth their lives. I understood sentiment - I had once attributed it to worldly possessions as well. We could see a group of the fire brigade losing ground to what could only be described as living fire. Someone explained that when the fires hit Allustan's laboratory (the recently deceased town magi), that something came alive and was now continuing to spread the fires. It consumed anything came in contact with it. I wanted to summon the armor, but there were too many around. I'd need to be careful. I tapped into the frozen layer of Hell and encased myself in unholy protections and then cautiously approached. The living fire overran and consumed several more of the brigade and was upon me. This was no elemental. It was more of an ooze - an ooze ablaze, and the fire seemed to feed it! It swung a pseudopod. I had anticipated this and prepared a Ward. My miscalculation was painful. It wasn't fire. It was ON fire, but it was not fire. It was acid. Its 'pseudopod' washed over me eating through my garments, travel pack, satchel, sizable sum of money I brought on the trip, and all useful equipment in a fraction of a second. My magical protections were undone and my naked flesh exposed. Most men would have screamed. But what few realize is that third degree burns - whether acid or otherwise - are actually quite anesthetic. Besides, the transitioning second degree burns were nothing in comparison to the chains that ripped through my body and soul on a regular basis. I was furious - mostly at myself. "This is a direct manifestation of what killed you, spirit" With my release, the undead pounded the magical creation with debris and with the help of a few of the townsfolk and Treig's crossbow bolts, the creature was destroyed. I wasn't anticipating using up my entire healing reserve just for this, but so be it. My skin regenerated. I'm sure the sight of a mostly naked nobleman followed by a vengeful spirit was quite a sight, but I paid them no mind. Our guide, apparently his name was Lief, had explained to Treig that his instructions had changed with the death of Allustan and that he should instead deliver the package to the magi's apprentice, Egan. The fires still raged but were no longer being actively spread. There was something very peculiar about the spiritual signal from Lief. The signal was not proliferating as I expected, but then, my encounters with the worms had been so long ago, and the reports could be exaggerated. Regardless, he still seemed to be of sound mind and body and bid us follow him out of town. And yet, I could not shake the sense that somehow this was a trap. How did word of Allustan's death spread so quickly that with us - on our way to Diamond Lake - passing only one person, informed us of the recent news - how did Treig's employer acquire the information so quickly to give him new instructions? Was this man somehow in league with Suel? In my experience, most that had ever tried to play the Great Game found that when I 'stumbled' into the center of their web, that I was actually a spider, myself. Moreover, the quickest way to learn a web's design was to tread upon it. And so we departed, leaving the ruins of Diamond Lake in our wake. And the spirit's anger churned in misery and vengeance as it left its worldly home behind. _____________________ We traveled North. A storm was gathering - far too quickly to be natural, but not so quickly to prevent our travel. We crested a hill and there beyond the copse of trees was a crater. At its center - a dead black dragon - presumably the remains of what razed Diamond Lake. But it was not alone. A clutch of similarly scaled kobolds were performing some sort of ritual - their rhythmic chanting barely audible above the gathering winds. This abomination could not be permitted unlife again. Treig had already begun his approach. Partly to mask his approach and partly because I held no fear of these creatures, I broke from the treeline at a determined walk. Once I had gathered the attention of those kobolds nearby, I summoned my armor so none could mistake me for the threat I was to them. Treig had already engaged with one of the kobold shamans. "Spirit, these are the ones responsible! You see the dragon there, it and its clutch caused your death. Take your vengeance!" Even though we were heavily outnumbered, the kobolds proved no match. Even the shamans were powerless against us. The kobold's intent was revealed when one recently killed dropped a glass flask. The flask shattered upon hitting the ground and a green worm wriggled its way into the dead creature's body. Beherit quickly ended any potential threat the worm-infested dead body could offer. Two surrendered by the end. I beheaded the first. The spirit was destroyed during the battle but perhaps its soul could now rest easy having exacted vengeance. The most surprising part of the fight was not the kobolds nor even the worms, but Lief. With reckless abandon he attacked the kobolds - though ineffectually. His self-preservation was apparently waning. I feared Beherit would drink yet another soul this day. At the end of the battle, it all became clear. Lief had not been infected. He had been possessed - by the ghost of Allustan. Allustan emerged from the soldier as the last kobold surrendered. This man, this guide, this soldier, he was not infected! The dragon, the kobolds, the undead, and the living alchemical acid had all been destroyed. Who knows, perhaps he'd be able to live the rest of his life in peace and put all this behind him. His name was Lief. Relieved of my cynicism, for the briefest of moments, I became that Knight Protector of long ago - romantic, idealist. And then I heard Beherit's laugh - a profane, dark, infernal sound inside my mind. Taunting with both hate and contempt he said, "But you promised me a drink." I had wielded the sword carelessly. He did not drink the souls of the kobolds who'd died. I thought he was dormant. His eyes were closed. I stared out of a body I no longer controlled. In the midst of battle, seeing a green worm in the flesh, Allustan's ghost - in the midst of it all, I had lost control and Beherit had taken over. Had I decided to behead the kobold. Had I not decided? I hadn't really given it much thought. Was it just? Perhaps. But had I made the decision? When had I lost control precisely. A prisoner in my own body, I watched Beherit's eyes open and the sword flare to life. It all happened in slow motion. I tried to cry out, but no voice came. Beherit had complete control. Like a child, Lief was awakening as if from a dream. As he was turning to look around, Beherit impaled him from behind. It was a mortal wound. Entering in through his lower back and sprouting forth from his upper chest. I could feel my arm twist and curve as it moved with supernatural strength. Beherit sheathed in Lief's flesh unleashed hellfire and molten hot chains - the pinnacle of pain as they tore Lief's soul from his body and consumed it. The only outwardly visual manifestation was hellfire erupting from every orifice of Lief's body, and while horrific, it was nothing compared to what happened within. I had experienced this. I knew the pain. The husk of his body collapsed to its knees and then completely to the ground as it disintegrated into ash. Treig witnessed this all silently. Even he was taken aback by the savage horror of it all. And it all happened so quickly, even if he wanted to, there was little he could have done to stop it. A testament to his composure, he addressed Allustan. Meanwhile, my soul screamed in its shackles. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Like a caged animal I tried to claw my way into control. But Beherit's control was absolute. I growled curses and profanities at Beherit - in infernal and abyssal alike. I became like the angry spirit. Comprehensible speech ended. My soul projected rage-filled emotion. Any empath would have likely been knocked unconscious. But it didn't matter. Lief's ashes quickly scattered to the oncoming storm. I lost track of Treig and Allustan's ghost. Chuckling, Beherit released his grip on me and I was myself once again. I must have been standing their locked in position wrestling for control for a long time, because my right arm was completely numb. I saw Treig cresting the rise of the next hill towards the Cairn. Beherit still sat in my hand, his eyes closed once again. I threw the blade away as hard as I could. It was petulant for its futility. Beherit sliced a gouge into the earth and then disappeared - summoned back into its soul sheathe, inside of me. I was drained, the mental effort and turmoil exhausting me. This is who I am, a menace, a murderer. There was the path I chose instead of insanity, undeath, and chaos. I cannot claim innocence. My choices led to Lief's death, and so many Liefs before him. I don't know why I was so affected this time. Perhaps it was the realization of his salvation, only to personally take it away. The cruelty of it all was particularly wicked. Stealing myself back to cynicism, I knelt down over where Lief had fallen. The storm was picking up. I wanted to say a prayer...but who would I pray to? Who would listen to the likes of me? I disgusted myself. I blanked my mind the way I had learned from a Suelese monk so long ago - when I was still fully human seeking a cure. I heard myself say: "His name was Lief". And I wept. [/QUOTE]
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[5E] The Age of Worms - Solid Snake's Campaign
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