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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Verbatim" data-source="post: 1831054" data-attributes="member: 15549">As the dandy and the elf leave, Zeric sees the scribe break out a book and begin to jot notes into it; leaving him for the moment, alone with the dwarf.Pacing the room like a caged tiger, Zeric tries to settle his nerves, but feels the eyes of the dwarf upon him, watching and judging him as all of the Cuthbertian clergy had done since they had found him more dead than alive on the trade road leading into Cauldron.~Perhaps they would have shown me more mercy had they simply allowed me to die in the ditch where the others had left me...~Zeric could feel the scars on his back begin to itch where the scourges they had weilded had ripped into his flesh as if they were starving wolves who had came upon a fallen deer. He could feel the heat from the white hot brand they had placed against his left bicep and marked him as a traitor to Hextor's faith. It was a mark that all faiths could recognize, and when the Cuthbertians had stopped for him, Zeric was more dead than alive.~It will never matter that the black blooded bastards killed my parents and forced me into their ranks against my will...it will never matter that it was kill or be killed in the training and I would not allow myself to be weak like my parents were...it will not matter that I killed three of the six that came after me when I fled from the camp...none of it matters as they all see me as nothing more than one who has learned the dark tongue, and used it as a weapon to live...~Finally, Zeric could stand the dwarf's steady gaze upon him no longer and he spoke first, hating the fact the dwarf could get under his skin when the others could not."What is it you would know Althron, or do you stare at me for the simple pleasure of it?"</blockquote>

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