It was nearly noontime when Dalmar was awakened from a midday nap where he dozed off under a small fruit tree in the courtyard where enjoyed the calmness and the stream of his own thoughts. Having no idea how long he had been asleep and having a feeling of shameful discovery about his person, Dalmar was jarred by his own self to waking. As his eyes and awareness came into focus, Dalmar looked up at Dorian who stood above him, staring down on him smiling. "It never fails. Even when asleep, the body can sense its surroundings and lets the mind know that it should stand to attention." Dorian chuckled slightly as his face returned to one of dutiful expression. Dorian looked at the sky for a moment, marking the position of the sun. "Ready yourself, Zeke. We leave for whatever lies beneath The Scarlet Tanager in one hour." he said.
"What did we find out from those people we rounded up this morning?" Dalmar asked.
"Oh, well, absolution will come for them in due time. In the meantime, we can't very well go into battle without weapons of our own. We need to gather some more information before we can effectively question them. It makes it easier to tell when they are lying to us." Dorian smiled again. Dalmar was a bit uneasy at the effortless manner by which Dorian switched between appearances. He figured that perhaps Dorian struggled with each of them as well, and he decided that was perhaps the reason why it almost seemed awkward when a softer expression came over Dorian's face.
"How long have you been a ward of Polias?" Dalmar asked abruptly, steering the conversation to one of his own curiosity. Dorian's expression changed yet again.
"There'll be enough time for all of that, Zeke, after we finish our job. In the meantime, let's stay focused. Some things are better as the reward of demonstration rather than the spoils of discovery." With one final smirk, Dorian turned and walked back across the courtyard and into the castle. Dalmar couldn't help but to feel as if the Dorian's trust was not complete, and wondered if some of the other men felt the same. Either way, Dalmar would be cautious not to raise suspicion. He would stay true to his word even though he was lying about his true name. He even wondered why he had kept up the facade for so long, and the very idea seemed to back him into a strange corner within his mind. He felt almost ashamed. At this point, aside from losing trust or gaining suspicion, he really had no reason to lie to these people. Dismissing the ill feelings, Dalmar quickly rubbed out the shame with the thought of Sh'lzzt and his ever-careful manner. He decided that, at least for now, maybe it might prove to be the right course of action for the future.
Having refreshed himself, Dalmar appeared sometime later at the castle's stockade to once meet Dorian and nine of his men. Again, they made their way through the streets of Altendon, this time under the watchful gaze of the townsfolk and merchants that filled the streets and alleys along the way. Meeting with the four remaining men of Dorian's company who stood outside the tavern as guard and enforcers of the regal edict, Dalmar and Dorian entered The Scarlet Tanager a second time. One by one, the men entered the gaping maw of the opened hollow vat, descending down into the ground along a winding stone staircase. The earthen walls filled the air with moisture and the odor of trickling particles of earth as the nine men crept through the darkness of the underground lair to the bottom floor, a round circle of stone slab in an oval-shaped room of earth and maligned roots. The sounds of water echoed from the drips that splashed into a small stream standing at the edge of the stone platform, and each of the heads of the men swiveled upon their shoulders as the pathway lead into two opposing directions from where they stood. Dorian looked at the flames of their torches as they blew to the east signaling an endpoint to the west. Accordingly, Dorian pointed in that same westward direction as the men behind him assembled. Thick clumps of dark green and black algae grew upon the rough bottom of the water filled pathway, and as the men stumbled in the darkness upon the slippery ground the splashes of water echoed into the shadows of the tunnel. Dalmar knew that the element of surprise was nearly non-existent, and he readied himself for most any encounter.
Together, the tightly grouped men crept through the eerie tunnel until finally the ground began to slope downwards. The slick contour of the watery passage proved to be quite treacherous, and without sudden warning one of Dorian's men lost his battle with his footing. With a loud clank of armor and misfortune, the young guard crashed to the ground along the slope sending his flailing body sliding forward through the stances of the men before him. As the gravity of the watery slope pulled him downwards, the men tumbled to their knees and torso sliding headlong into the darkness. With a sizzle of extinguishing flames, the torches struck the water around them and the features of the earthen corridor disappeared from sight. Dalmar and Dorian felt the cold, rocky ground slide underneath them, blanketed by a sinewy grime of the algae and decay. The remaining two torches of the men disappeared from sight, their bodies skipped ever further into the darkness until the light disappeared. For what seemed like a minute or two, the five men struck the walls and depth of the watery trail in darkness, bring with them a thunderous sound of turmoil with them through the darkness. Finally, with an equally monstrous crash, one by one, they found themselves submerged in an icy, pool of water as Dorian's body bombarded a strange crag of stone followed by the onrush of the bodies of his comrades.
Dalmar furiously felt through the water for the bottom of the pool until the tip of his toe struck the soft earth below him. The sounds of the gasping breath of the men and the splashing of water signaled the end of the devilish ride to the depths as a moment of calm overtook the men. Dalmar waded through the water, stretching his hands about his body to feel of the men around him and quickly located three of the five other men in the water. Finally, Dorian's voice broke the impending darkness. "Sound off..." he said in a quieted, normal tone.
"Phillip..." echoed a voice.
"Lars" sounded the second man.
"Byrum" came a third.
"Zeke..." Dalmar answered softly. Dalmar reached out his hand and tapped the body from the direction Dorian's voice rang. Withdrawing his hand, Dalmar continued to thrust his body through the water with the other men, until his hand struck dry earth. surmising his surroundings from the discovery of the edges of the shallows, Dalmar hoisted his body onto the higher ground surrounding the pool. Dalmar felt along the ground with his hands, finding that the ground grew in size and gave enough space for the other men to join him. "Over here. There's space for us all here on this ledge. There seems to a way in this direction" Dalmar said.
"Here, too. The same" followed the voice that once identified itself as Byrum. The voice carried from the other side of the pool which now revealed itself to be about eight meters wide.
"It appears there are two passages..." Dorian said.
"By the sounds of this, one passage seems to lead in the direction of the western forest while the other one seems to lead in a northerly fashion, Dorian" said Dalmar.
"Yes, the draft in these parts points to the west, and that is likely the direction of the exit." Dorian answered. "Come on, men. To the north. Find that ledge and hoist yourselves onto it. We go north. The exit will be there waiting for us when we find it" ordered Dorian as the splashing of men began to sound the movement of the five men through the water. The faint echoes of the other men far through the tunnels trickled down as the water that seeped through the dark passages of the subterranean maze. The men paused and listened. Moments of silence mixed with occasional sounds of metal armor found their way softly through the dark earth to their ears until the sounds eventually came no more. Yet, Dorian and his men waited for his men, but no men came. "Something's wrong. They should have reached us by now." Dorian said with an uneasy tone. A metallic ring pierced the darkness like a bell tumbling down a flight of stone stairs eventually grew louder until the sound of an object striking the surface of the pool of water signaled its end. As each of the warriors felt the uneasy fall of silence upon their ears, Dalmar attempted to make sense of the metal he heard falling down the slope into the water. "Zeke, find out what that sound was." Dorian finally said. Dalmar moved through the standing men, edging his foot slowly along the ground until he found the edge of the pool once again. Lowering his body into the water, he slowly moved through the water to where he remembered the opening to the sloping tunnel ended. Dalmar's toes scraped the bottom of the soft earth below him, fumbling through tiny bits of rubble and thick tufts of algae. The strange, thick air at the water's surface just below his chin brought with it the odor of death and stagnation until, at once, his foot struck something hard and man-made at the bottom of the pool. Taking a deep breath, Dalmar plunged into the water and reached for the object at the end of the slope. Grasping it in his hand, he raised a lone blade buried in the depth of the shallow pool and swam back over to the edge.
"It's a sword, Dorian..." Dalmar said as he hoisted himself back onto the edge of the pool.
"Ambush!" Phillip said as he gasped.
"Likely." Dorian responded. "Men, stick together. We are not alone. We continue in this direction. For right now, we continue. Our time to avenge our brothers will come, but for the moment we must root out the evil ahead of us. The passage that we came will likely be as treacherous for they as it was for us." Dorian's decisive tone quickly brought the men to order. Any ideas of returning upwards to the beginning of their quest were quelled by Dorian's command. "Zeke, as this is your find, lead on. We go north." Dorian finally continued after a short pause. Again, Dalmar moved through the men and took the point. He drew his sword and felt of the walls of the passage before him. Dalmar's steps were deliberate and with purpose, careful not to find fault in his own footing or leadership. The ground eventually sloped upwards slightly until the men reached the top of the rise, and the passage ended as Dalmar's outstretched sword struck an upright stone in the wall. Dalmar sighed as he stepped closer to the stone and placed the palm of his hand upon its face. The stone was dusty, yet it seemed to have a strange energy.
"What's that smell?" said Lars alertly. The men each took quick pulls of air into their nostrils.
"Smells like eggs..." said Phillip.
"It's sulfur! Get back!" Dorian shouted as the men rushed through the darkness in turmoil. The air popped and sizzled as streaks of blue light shot through the rounded end of the hall. With a loud crack electricity the air exploded into a showering ball of smoke about the top of the tiny cavern. Erupting from the obfuscation of the men shone four bright blue flames, flickering with the energy of magic. The gloomy blue light threw itself onto the earthy walls of the passage, and Dalmar's eyes were found trouble with the new found ability to view his surroundings clearly. As the eyes of the men adjusted, Phillip walked forward to the stone in the wall which now revealed itself as something more than a barrier. Phillip's eyes ran across the smooth set of runes carved into its face, and Dalmar was finally able to identify Phillip as the young man who found the entrance to these caverns in The Scarlet Tanager far above their current position in the ground. "What do you see?" Dorian finally asked of Phillip.
"Well, it's magic, all right." Phillip said. "It's pretty small stuff as far as I can tell, though. I think I might be able to open this door without too much trouble" he furthered. Dalmar began to understand that Phillip had more talents than most, and he began to wonder about Dorian's party of men altogether. What sort of band of men were these people? What other talents did they have? This all seemed to puzzle Dalmar until finally, he gathered himself.
"Umm, do any of you have any other talents that I should know about?" Dalmar said. Almost at once, the four other men turned and looked at Dalmar and then each met eyes with themselves.
"Nope." they each said in unison. Phillip turned back to his work examining the door. Dorian smiled as the flicker of blue light crossed his face from above the door.
"Demonstration, Zeke. Not spoils." Dorian said as he smiled at Dalmar and looked back down the hallway from where they came. Finally, Phillip smiled and stepped back, signaling the other men to do the same.
"Foh-Rundh!" Phillip said with great authority as a glowing symbol appeared on the face of the door. Phillip paused again and studied the strange symbol. Dalmar's eyes widened, and his mind flashed back to the meeting with Xander. His vengeance upon Xander seemed years out of reach, and he began to feel anxious. Dalmar did not like magic. He was certain of that, but slowly he began to understand it better as Phillip studied the glyph. Phillip emitted a gasp of enlightenment once again, and stood strongly upright. "Xasch! Ve dahyn neoryk!" Phillip exclaimed. Phillip paused along with the onlooking warrior. The air was still, and Dalmar listened intently. Phillip grimaced and began again, "Xasch! Vé dahyn néoryk!" Phillip said louder and with more authority. Again, the scene remained unchanged. The glyph pulsed with a strange flame-colored energy as Phillip simply exclaimed, "Son of a bitch!". Furiously, Phillip pulled a small leather bag from underneath the folds of his cloak from which he produced a small book. Thumbing quickly through its pages, Phillip paused on a page about half way through the tome, and his eyes scanned the words. "Ahh!" Phillip said as he snapped the book back to form and tucked it away from whence it came. Once again, Phillip stood upright and announced, "Xasch! Vé dahyn ora néoryk!". With the final syllabic utterance Phillip smiled and turned towards Dorian who looked thoroughly unimpressed. Dalmar's eyes remained transfixed upon the glyph that now began to emit tiny balls of flame like a foundry of witchcraft. Streak of fire showered into the tiny roundlet of earth as a glowing, serpentine column of flame poured forth into the passage from the slowly disappearing rune of energy. Dalmar quickly reached out as the devilish beast of corruption and flame tunneled through the air with fangs and maw of fire and energy towards Phillip, and with one stroke threw Phillip backwards as the great bite of the fire snake made its first strike. Phillip's body hit Lars as Lars tried to catch Phillip's flying body, but Lars was sent with Phillips tumbling to the ground behind the other three men. Making a mighty slash of his blade, Dalmar sliced through the body of the serpent only find that his blade passed through the foul creature without infliction. Dalmar gasped as Byrum rushed forward with his shield forward in the face of the beast diverting its path momentarily while Dorian quickly picked Phillip from the ground.
"I thought you knew what you were doing!" shouted Dorian.
"Damnit, Dorian, I said I MIGHT be able to open the door!" Phillip shouted back at Dorian. The flaming serpent wriggled its way through the air, growing as it moved along the walls of the area and encircling the men. With a mighty rearing of its head, its demonic jaw opened and spewed a ball of fire into the tiny hovel about the front of the door. The smells of burning hair and flesh hung in the air and the men cried in pain. The beast's body struck with ferocity and likeness of a cobra, glancing off of Lars' shield with a mighty metallic clamor. Phillip jumped to his feet, his fingers trembling and his legs shaking at the horrible sight of the men braving certain misfortune at the hands of a lifeless entity, an automaton of fire and flame without life or will of its own. The air was painfully thin as the ignited vomit of the flaming golem coiled its way about the men in mid-air and burped a nasty cocktail of sulfur and conflagration. As the malevolent spirit struck with its fiery tail like the whip of a slave driver, Byrum dodged only to meet the gaping maw of the burning ophidian on the other side. Strike after strike, whip after whip, Lars' attempted to block the beast's advances as Phillip fumbled with memory and pronunciation. Then, all at once, enlightenment dawned upon Phillip once again. He knew this beast. His eyes widened as he stared it in its devilish face. "I got it! I know this one!" Phillip said as his mind awakened to the creature's identity and cure.
"Well, get to it you silly wizard!" screamed Dalmar at Phillip as he dodged the fiery set of fangs.
"Béa g'ndthrh ora néoryk!" Phillip shouted as the fiery demon quickly turned its attention to Phillip's words and its face turning from delight to dread. With a frightful screech the beast shook and twisted as its body became as dust in the air, and its particles dispersed with an feverish energy like a hurricane on the shore of Hell itself. The sudden explosion of the magical energies that bound the creature together stunned the men for a short moment, each wondering if the foul beast would suddenly reappear out of thin air to return from the nether planes. Each of their eyes crazed with anticipation and fear, the faces and arms red with the heat of the hellish cobra's flame breath. Then, without warning, the grinding squeak of polished stone upon stone rumbled from the door in the wall and blue flames that lit the hallway went out leaving the men in shadow once again. It was not long before the corridor's end was lit once again, and the men watched the door open slowly bringing with it a veil of firelight from beyond it. The flickering glow from within crept up to the very feet of the band of adventurers, walking its way up their legs until, in unison, their gaze broke the scene and peered inside the room.
The mighty stone door rested, finally, its weight against the wall of the corridor echoing with weighty announcement of the arrival of Dorian's men. Dalmar shook his head to rid himself of his daze, and he grabbed his other sword from its sheath. The odor of sweat and blood blew into the hallway as the men peered upon the wide dungeon that laid in front of them. To one side, a cool stream of flowing water erupted from within the earth itself and exited from view just behind the large stone door. To the other side, a long stretch of wrought iron bars stood, individually sectioned to create cells for unfortunate souls caught by Sarat's men. The cries of a prisoner rang out as a humongous man-like beast stood against the far wall beside a huge iron door. Two more seven-foot beasts of flesh and tusk stood over an accordant bench swinging large axe blade across miscellaneous chunks of flesh and bone. There was no escaping detection as each of their large, pig-like ears turned to the sound of intruders into Sarat's dungeon. With a loud, guttural call to arms, the great executioners grabbed their mighty axes, still stained with the blood and bits of flesh of the prisoners, and rushed towards the human invaders. "Leave no swine upright!" Dorian yelled as he followed Dalmar headlong into the rush against the abominations.
Dalmar led the charge, both swords thirsty for blood, be it green or red. With a mighty roar, Dalmar lunged at the front attacker catching the swing of its great axe with the hilt of his left hand and leaping into the air as he plunged his blade through its neck. The exchange of blood for steel sprayed across the wrought iron bars to the cheer of the dungeon's demoralized inhabitants. Together, Dalmar toppled forward over the dying beasts body, somersaulting forward before the second beast who had already started his mighty axe swing to meet Dalmar's rest. Dorian leaped upon the stomach of the fallen beast thundering to the ground and plunged the death strike to its weakly beating heart as he, too, tumbled from the blow to the side. Lars rushed forward with Byrum, and together with Lars' shield, swept the swooping axe of the boar-like executioner to the wayside where it struck the stone floor, burying its broken blade into the granite with a tremendous crack and clang. Quickly, as the momentum of Dalmar's acrobatic tumble carried him forward, Dalmar thrust his blade through the pelvis of the beast. The beast roared in surprise and pain, dropping the hilt of the axe and grabbing its crotch. Dalmar withdrew his strike, pulling his blade free of the maimed beast as a pour of blood and flesh spurted from its hips onto his person. Byrum spun around the back of the huge creature, swinging his blade at the height of its head. With one clean strike, Byrum removed the top of the beast's head as it popped like a busted melon at the strike.
Dalmar tumbled, again, out of the way of the falling mountain of flesh as it fell to the stone of the floor, spraying the insides of its once life-filled body to the floor. distracted, Lars jumped aside and Byrum smiled at Dorian, but Dorian's eyes were not giving approval. In fact, Dorian's eyes were filled with a momentary bolt of fear as he reached out towards his friend who absentmindedly neglected to account for the third rushing beast behind him. And with one terrible strike, the mighty blade of the demonic giant fell through the head and body of Byrum, resting on his hips as the two side of his torso fell apart from one another. The beast roared in delight. A shower of blood sprayed across the beasts body and face as its long tongue licked Byrum's life from its face. "Goddamnit, no!" Lars shouted as the demon pulled its blade from the mass of flesh that was once the warriors' brother. Together, enraged and without concern, Dorian and Lars rushed the symbol of evil. Dalmar scuttled along the ground and regained his footing, joining the charge as the beast prepared his axe for another mighty swing at the puny humans. The blood-soaked blade whistled as the blade drew back and the men, unwavering, rushed upon the beast who stood ready for them all. Then, time slowed down once again for Dalmar. The huge double-blade of the beast hovered in mid-air, moving slowly forward to meet the charge of Dorian and Lars. With a vault of his body and thrust of his blade, Dalmar plunged the his blade through the knee of the foul creature, bending it backwards with the might of his strength, and bring it tumbling to the floor. Lars, having met the path of flying axe, shielded his friends from the blow with his shield. As the blade of the axe flew out of control and struck Lars' shield, Lars' arm took the brunt of the blow through the shield as it folded under the mighty swipe of the beast. Lars' arm snapped like a twig from the immense carom of the creature's blade, and Lars cried out in pain, his shield rendered useless from the battle. Rushing carelessly ointo the beast, Dorian, with madness in his eyes, leaped into the air and fell onto the beast who caught him with his mighty clawed hands. Dorian's body was swallowed by the size and strength of the wounded beast, and together they wrestled as Dorian sought to thrust his blade into the abomination's jowls. Within the mighty grasp of the beast, Dorian was finally thrown off of the beast, his sword falling to the floor as his body struck the cold, hard stone and relieving him of his breath. As the beast turned his attention to his immediate surroundings, his eyes met Dalmar's gaze directly above him, and his eyes became as Dorian's when Byrum fell. With one mighty stroke, Dalmar cleaved the foe's head from its shoulders, sending it rolling against the wrought iron bars of the dungeon cells with a bang.
Dorian moaned on the floor as he rolled over to his hands and knees, grabbing his sword. Dalmar spit, and looked at the carnage left spewing filth upon the floor of the dungeon and winced, breathing for a moment as he turned his attention to Phillip who had begun to unlock the cells of the prisoners. "Thanks for the help, Phillip." Dalmar said sarcastically.
"This is proving to be an even more arduous situation that originally thought" said Dorian as he waved his hand for Dalmar to give him help standing. Dalmar crossed the room and pulled Dorian to his feet. One by one, Phillip unlocked the cells until the last of seventeen frail and tortured men crept from the darkness of the dungeon confines before the beaten and battered warriors. Dalmar looked at each of their faces, each one fearful and unsure of their rescuers. But Dalmar did not see his friend. No elf stood among them.
"within the last few days, did any of you see an elf come nto this dungeon?" Dalmar asked the newly-freed men. Their gazes passed among each other. Dorian, now upright and taking a more authoritative stance, looked at the men before him.
"You will all be brought to the safety of Altendon. You are free men now, but we must first get back. All, quickly, follow us now!" Dorian shouted. Phillip crossed the room and stood before the iron door at the back wall.
"Ordth sur nadda, pro tempè adth" Phillip spoke softly, repeating it twice as the door glowed with soft green light. Dalmar peered at Phillip as he turned around. Spying Dalmar's gaze, he said, "There. That should hold that door closed until we can come back." Phillip smiled as he crossed the room again and stood before Dorian and Dalmar. Dalmar's attention turned again to the freed men.
"Again, any elves? Have you seen any recently?" Dalmar queried once more. Finally, after several moment of uncertainty, a thin man with ragged ed hair raised his hand.
"Aye, sir. One elf..." the man said. Dalmar's heart leaped in his chest.
"What came of this elf? Did he tell you his name? What did he look like?" Dalmar belted to the man, not thinking that barrage of questions may be a bit troublesome to the frail man's mind. The red-haired man lowered his gaze and looked at the other men around him.
"No name, sir. Blonde like cornsilk. Lame, I think. A bad leg, perhaps..." the man reported timidly.
"What happened to this elf? Do you know?" Dalmar asked again. "I will not hurt you, I promise. He is a friend of mine, and I dearly wish to find him and free him as we have done for you...." Dalmar contiued with softer tone.
"Taken, four days ago. Northwest to be sold at the edge of the desert to the highest bidder, or so I would imagine." the man said with a bit more confidence. Softer still, the sounds of the men around him began to sound off in agreement with the man's words.
"Sold? Who would want to buy an elf?" Dalmar asked, confused at the very idea.
"Don't know, but that is where elves go when Sarat finds them...." the man said.
"Zeke, elves are valuable to many wizards and alchemists for...well, their parts." Phillip said abruptly.
"Their parts? Explain, Phillip." Dalmar requested.
"For instance, as I recall, their eyes are used sometimes for strange potions that help one see in the dark. But before you start thinking I buy and sell elves' parts, let me assure you I have never traded in such things. I'm not that kind of mage. I do not do alchemy either." Phillip looked at Dalmar with plain expression. Dalmar tried to find some deviance in Phillips stare and his words, but was unable to find any.
"This is all fine and grand, but we need to leave and tell the king of what we have found." Dorian said finally, and together each of the men agreed. The frail once-inhabitants of the Sarat's dungeon looked to Dorian who began his passage towards the door. The ex-prisoners followed behind him, and finally Dalmar, Phillip, and Byrum. Out through the earthen passage, carrying torches absconded fro the dungeons of Sarat, the men made their way to the shallow pool. There they slowly and carefully crawled upwards along the treacherous slope, careful not to spill into the pool below once again. Finally, after nearly an hour's time, the men reached the borders of The Scarlet Tanager, and up through the great wooden vat they climbed. The journey back to the town of Altendon was accomplished almost entirely in silence. Dorian appeared terribly fatigued to Dalmar and the hearts of the all the men were heavy at the losses of the warriors' brothers. Dalmar, too, felt the burden of the loss, and felt sympathy for the brave men. Once again, the moon had returned to the sky above, shining down upon the barren streets of the town and lighting the path of the free men to the castle along with their rescuers. Each face of the freed men seem to bear the light of the moon as they began to realize that their torture was over. Dalmar felt the resurgence of these men, and he smiled at the thought that he was a part of their new-found freedom.
Met by members of the clergy that resided within the castle walls, the horde of malnourished men were led to be fed and housed for a time. Dorian turned to Dalmar and smiled. "Get some rest, Zeke. You've earned it. I'll see you tomorrow after I've had a chance to council the king" he said.
"Of course, you know, I fully intend to travel to the northwest after this is done, right?" Dalmar said to Dorian.
"Of course, Zeke. I would expect nothing less. If it were me, I'd do the same thing, and probably in the same way, too." Dorian continued. Dalmar gave Dorian a wry smile as he nodded and turned to travel up the staircase to his chambers. Dalmar was indeed tired, and even more tired now than he was hungry. Dalmar, at once, decided to forgo supper as he didn't want to fall asleep where he sat in front of his plate. Returning to his room, he sat on the edge of the bed and reflected upon the day. He was proud. He was proud that he had met part of his first goal, and that things were progressing as he thought they should. It gave him some comfort, a comfort he had not truly felt for some time since all his troubles in Altendon began. At ease with his day and aching from the ordeals in the caverns below the city, he fell fast asleep.
Invino Veritas
1/2/12
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