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<blockquote data-quote="Aramalian" data-source="post: 7141956" data-attributes="member: 6672752"><p>Hunger.</p><p></p><p>Hunger had rocked him to sleep, and hunger gnawed his guts into wakefulness.</p><p></p><p>He lay still for a while, allowing the day's heat to soak into his aching bones. Lay still, in fact, until a sharp kick to the ribs shot more pain through his form.</p><p></p><p>"<strong>Get out of here, useless wretch!</strong>" cawed a crone's voice. He opened his eyes in time to see and block, with the lift of a thick forearm, the second kick from the crone's servant.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: #b22222"><strong>I will go,</strong></span>" he growled. "<span style="color: #b22222"><strong>But touch me again, and you will precede me to the clearing at the end of the path.</strong></span>"</p><p></p><p>He rose, and rose, and rose, towering above the ragged, abandoned-looking merchant's stall where he had taken refuge earlier. He turned his gaze to the sky and nodded, seeing that the time of the meeting had almost come. He hefted his club, with the sharpened rib bones of his fallen enemies sunk into its head, and shambled towards the walled estate.</p><p></p><p>He was Atroclos the Twice-Orphaned, and he would have his revenge on those who had betrayed and slaughtered his master. But in the meantime, he was hungry, and this was the promise of work. He showed the letter to the guard, who was older and even bigger than Atroclos. The guard grunted and shoved open the door, and Atroclos passed through it, bumping the guard in the chest with his shoulder as he passed. They stared at one another for a moment, then the guard returned to his post.</p><p></p><p>The half-giant followed the music into the courtyard, his face towards the ground. Once he would have entered such a manor with pride, wearing the rich livery of his master that allowed him to carry himself with pride in the face of any onlookers. Now he was lowered to bullying doorservants.</p><p></p><p>Not forever, though. Not forever.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Aramalian, post: 7141956, member: 6672752"] Hunger. Hunger had rocked him to sleep, and hunger gnawed his guts into wakefulness. He lay still for a while, allowing the day's heat to soak into his aching bones. Lay still, in fact, until a sharp kick to the ribs shot more pain through his form. "[B]Get out of here, useless wretch![/B]" cawed a crone's voice. He opened his eyes in time to see and block, with the lift of a thick forearm, the second kick from the crone's servant. "[COLOR=#b22222][B]I will go,[/B][/COLOR]" he growled. "[COLOR=#b22222][B]But touch me again, and you will precede me to the clearing at the end of the path.[/B][/COLOR]" He rose, and rose, and rose, towering above the ragged, abandoned-looking merchant's stall where he had taken refuge earlier. He turned his gaze to the sky and nodded, seeing that the time of the meeting had almost come. He hefted his club, with the sharpened rib bones of his fallen enemies sunk into its head, and shambled towards the walled estate. He was Atroclos the Twice-Orphaned, and he would have his revenge on those who had betrayed and slaughtered his master. But in the meantime, he was hungry, and this was the promise of work. He showed the letter to the guard, who was older and even bigger than Atroclos. The guard grunted and shoved open the door, and Atroclos passed through it, bumping the guard in the chest with his shoulder as he passed. They stared at one another for a moment, then the guard returned to his post. The half-giant followed the music into the courtyard, his face towards the ground. Once he would have entered such a manor with pride, wearing the rich livery of his master that allowed him to carry himself with pride in the face of any onlookers. Now he was lowered to bullying doorservants. Not forever, though. Not forever. [/QUOTE]
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