Ulfang von Haren
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 181 
Age: 82
Physical Description: -------------------------------
Ulfang is a bear of a man. He towers over most he meets, and his figure is muscular and powerful, wonderfully preserved despite his age. He has been the head of House Von Haren for over sixty years. While he lacks the immortality of a vampire, he has been able to sustain his health and vitality seemingly indefinitely through his study of the black arts. His hair is snow white and grown long, complemented by a short white beard curved about his jaw. He has a strong jawline and intensely arched eyebrows, as well as one deep, piercing pale yellow right eye. His other eye is milky white, presumably blind, but this only adds to his intimidating visage. His body is covered with scars, material evidence of an existence filled with battle and hardship. He has a deep, strong voice, the sound of which is enough to scare the life out of the living.
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Clothes and Equipment: When in battle, he wears heavy, ornate black plate armour, the shoulders of which are sculpted into the shape of ravens with bizarrely glowing green eyes. The fingertips of the gauntlets have been forged and sharpened into bladed points, to be used as tertiary weaponry should he lose both of his blades. His primary weapon is a cursed, broad greatsword named "Fang", which draws the very life from the enemies it fells and feeds their souls to its master. His secondary weapon is a mundane steel arming sword, used primarily in close quarters. Outside of battle, he generally wears a heavy hide-and-fur overcoat over a thick leather jerkin, complimented by black trousers and heavy black boots.
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Registered: Jun 27, 2015 11:08:07 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfang von Haren on Feb 11, 2016 11:57:26 GMT -8
"I certainly hope so," responds Ulfang, studying Azure's features carefully. She seems to be troubled by something...and Ulfang has a feeling he knows what it is, though he makes sure to show no fear of that possibility.
He shrugs nonchalantly and smiles at her, saying in a comforting tone, "If not, I can always infuse the gem with a piece of my own soul to extend its life while we look for another solution. I doubt it will ultimately be necessary, but It would be nice to have one less voice buzzing around up there. It does make it difficult to concentrate sometimes."
He notes her position on the bed mentally, but he indicates it with just the faintest of smiles, rather than speaking up about it. A part of him hopes that she will one day be comfortable enough -- and material enough -- to lay beside him, rather than standing guard all night.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2016 12:14:47 GMT -8
Azure's perpetual stillness seemed magnified for a moment, as though even the magic and water that formed her corporeal body had seized up. Ulfang's words were.. shocking, and slightly unsettling. Gathering souls and using them to bring her back to life was one thing. Using his own soul to prolong the longevity of the Jewel until they could find another solution.. that was another entirely. And she wasn't sure how she felt about that notion. She wanted to live again, yes. But not at the expense of Ulfang's own soul. Even just a piece of it.
What if there was no solution? What if the Jewel was meant to fade, and it was her destiny to disappear along with it? It was a sorrowful prospect, and made her ears droop like a flower too long without water. The unfortunate truth was, that was a very real possibility. That she could have this brief taste of freedom, of life, and then she would be no more. Her hands curled into fists, before she closed her eyes, focusing on a pleasant memory, one of few, in an attempt to dispel her maudlin musings. A former Mistress had gone on a sea voyage, and Azure had been allowed to frolic in the ocean surrounding the ship as it sailed. The dolphins that played about the bow had welcomed her with joyous cacophony, and she had been content. As her tension slowly leeched away, she basked in the remembered sound of waves rolling gently against the sand.
"What is the phrase... 'We will cross that bridge when we come to it', I believe." Murmured words were her only response. She would, of course, hope for the best. But she would prepare herself for the worst. Fate had not been kind to Azure, even when she was just a simple Elven girl too curious for her own good.. she saw no reason why that should change now.
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Ulfang von Haren
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 181
Age: 82
Physical Description: -------------------------------
Ulfang is a bear of a man. He towers over most he meets, and his figure is muscular and powerful, wonderfully preserved despite his age. He has been the head of House Von Haren for over sixty years. While he lacks the immortality of a vampire, he has been able to sustain his health and vitality seemingly indefinitely through his study of the black arts. His hair is snow white and grown long, complemented by a short white beard curved about his jaw. He has a strong jawline and intensely arched eyebrows, as well as one deep, piercing pale yellow right eye. His other eye is milky white, presumably blind, but this only adds to his intimidating visage. His body is covered with scars, material evidence of an existence filled with battle and hardship. He has a deep, strong voice, the sound of which is enough to scare the life out of the living.
----------------------
Clothes and Equipment: When in battle, he wears heavy, ornate black plate armour, the shoulders of which are sculpted into the shape of ravens with bizarrely glowing green eyes. The fingertips of the gauntlets have been forged and sharpened into bladed points, to be used as tertiary weaponry should he lose both of his blades. His primary weapon is a cursed, broad greatsword named "Fang", which draws the very life from the enemies it fells and feeds their souls to its master. His secondary weapon is a mundane steel arming sword, used primarily in close quarters. Outside of battle, he generally wears a heavy hide-and-fur overcoat over a thick leather jerkin, complimented by black trousers and heavy black boots.
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Registered: Jun 27, 2015 11:08:07 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfang von Haren on Feb 11, 2016 12:35:58 GMT -8
"Worry not, dear. All will be well," answers the necromancer, sitting up for a moment to squeeze her shoulder comfortingly. Despite the fact that she can't actually feel it, he hopes she understands the purpose behind the gesture.
Afterward, he lies back down, turning on his side and closing his eyes. He quickly falls into a deep, restful sleep, the dreams of many rushing through his head. Once, this would have disturbed him, but now it is almost comforting...though, perhaps not as comforting as the small Elf sitting at the foot of his bed.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 11, 2016 12:39:25 GMT -8
Azure's eyes shot open when Ulfang's hand fell upon her shoulder, but other than that, she didn't move. When she heard him lay down and descend into slumber, her head turned, fixing wide eyes on the spot where he had touched her.
..She had felt.. warmth, and the texture of flesh against her bare pseudo-skin.
It seemed her time was growing short. Even more so than she had realized.
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Ulfang von Haren
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 181
Age: 82
Physical Description: -------------------------------
Ulfang is a bear of a man. He towers over most he meets, and his figure is muscular and powerful, wonderfully preserved despite his age. He has been the head of House Von Haren for over sixty years. While he lacks the immortality of a vampire, he has been able to sustain his health and vitality seemingly indefinitely through his study of the black arts. His hair is snow white and grown long, complemented by a short white beard curved about his jaw. He has a strong jawline and intensely arched eyebrows, as well as one deep, piercing pale yellow right eye. His other eye is milky white, presumably blind, but this only adds to his intimidating visage. His body is covered with scars, material evidence of an existence filled with battle and hardship. He has a deep, strong voice, the sound of which is enough to scare the life out of the living.
----------------------
Clothes and Equipment: When in battle, he wears heavy, ornate black plate armour, the shoulders of which are sculpted into the shape of ravens with bizarrely glowing green eyes. The fingertips of the gauntlets have been forged and sharpened into bladed points, to be used as tertiary weaponry should he lose both of his blades. His primary weapon is a cursed, broad greatsword named "Fang", which draws the very life from the enemies it fells and feeds their souls to its master. His secondary weapon is a mundane steel arming sword, used primarily in close quarters. Outside of battle, he generally wears a heavy hide-and-fur overcoat over a thick leather jerkin, complimented by black trousers and heavy black boots.
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Registered: Jun 27, 2015 11:08:07 GMT -8
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Post by Ulfang von Haren on Feb 11, 2016 16:14:06 GMT -8
Ulfang sleeps well, and awakens early. He bathes again, and then puts on a fresh set of clothing, consisting of black leather trousers and a linen tunic, covered as usual by his heavy fur cloak. He and Azure leave almost immediately that morning, checking out and hopping atop Ulfang's Stallion. It and the mule leave the city before noon, setting upon the road back to Aesgir [Exit to Castle Harenhall] |
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
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Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
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Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 27, 2016 19:21:58 GMT -8
Maes walks into the Hotel Auberge. It's the kind of place he'd never have stayed before... Before this. Despite all that he'd been through in traveling, his robes remained clean. Nevertheless, he needed to look the part he intended to play, and that would require new attire. He walked to the service desk and asked for the least expensive room with a private bath, to have a hot meal brought up to it, and to have the concierge arrange for a tailor to make a visit in short order. He placed a single platinum coin on the counter. "I trust this will cover it," he asked, looking at the clerk from beneath his hood.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 11:56:10 GMT -8
The clerk looks up at the man, then down at the coin.
"Yes, of course. No problem at all. A room with a bath and a meal. That can be arranged. May I have your name, please?"
He opens a register and lifts a pen, looking to Maes with a questioning eye.
"We'll give you...room 101. First floor, room 1."
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
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Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
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Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 28, 2016 12:00:12 GMT -8
"Maes," Maes responds. "I will also require a barber, come to think of it," he says, realizing his hair is rather long and unkempt. "Please let me know if you will require more compensation."
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 12:04:44 GMT -8
The clerk looks at the coin once more.
"No no, you're covered. When you're ready for the meal, fill out the order form and pull the string to ring the bell. The barber and the tailor will be along in two hours. Enjoy your stay, sir!"
He makes a note in the register and hands Maes his key.
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
...
Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
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Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 28, 2016 12:33:51 GMT -8
Maes takes the key from the clerk and heads to his room. He largely ignores whatever decoration the room has and concentrates and making the bath suitable and filling out the meal ticket. Some of the options were foreign to him, but one he knew sounded very delicious at the moment. He wrote rôti d'agneau on the ticket and rang the bell. When the server arrived, he also asked for a pitcher of clean water, and a bottle of spiced mead if they had it.
After the server leaves, he settles down into the bath. His skin never really stayed dirty anyway, but after a few days on the road, a soak was especially pleasant. It was a luxury he had only enjoyed a handful of times in his life. When the server came with his meal, he waved to several gold coins left on a small table as a tip and bade him leave the tray in their place.
Several minutes later, he arose from the bath and after drying himself, dug into the finely roasted lamb and accompanying side dishes. The taste was amazing and following it with the spiced mead brought out the meaty undertones just right. He was sure he wouldn't be able to enjoy another meal like this in a long while and savored every bite.
When the tailor arrived, he asked for a modern Gauldish suit, "one such as a lower noble or wealthy merchant might wear." Maes had never noticed fashion in the first place, he had no idea what the tailor might show up with, but made sure to flash a few of the platinum coins he had left so it would be something suitable.
He asked the barber for a shorter, smart-looking, and fashionable cut. After it was done, he paid double what the barber charged and asked that his visit stay between them. If someone were to ask, he had visited a wealthy client who preferred anonymity while visiting Travere.
After it was all done, he rang for food again, a light meal this time, so he could sleep well. He would go to the palace the next morning.
And just to be sure he wouldn't be disturbed, he wedged the small table under the door handle to his room and locked and barred all windows. He'd learned the trick from a past... associate. He knew his unique appearance would be a giveaway if the cartel had men here, and flashing such coin around would surely make him a mark for other ne'er-do-wells. He then pulled the mattress from his bed and placed it on the far side of the bath, behind both it and the privacy shade, and against the wall. Feeling a little safer, he finally settled down into a light sleep, but one better than he'd had in months.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 12:46:01 GMT -8
Maes would be awoken in the middle of the night to the sound of a crackling fire, and the smell of smoke. Someone bangs on the door from the outside.
"Fire! Fire! Get out, the hotel's on fire!"
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
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Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
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Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 28, 2016 12:54:08 GMT -8
Maes shot up out of sleep, catching the scent of burning wood. He looked quickly around the room to make sure nothing in it was already alight. Seeing nothing, he got to his feet and walked to the window. He was on the first floor, if he needed to get out, he could do it easily here.
Instead, he gathered his belongings and wrapped the new suit in the papers it had been delivered in, securing it with the belt. He grabbed the coin purse from its hidden spot and tucked it into his robes as well. He wouldn't get far without it at this point.
He stopped to listen then. He listened for the things you'd normally hear from a building fire: the stamping of the feet of other patrons, the yelling of the staff, the sound of a bucket brigade being formed.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 12:57:28 GMT -8
There are no such sounds. Maes would hear the man at the door run off, and the crackle of burning wood. He would smell the smoke, and see it begin to seep under his door. There's nothing else, however. It's almost as though the hotel is empty. If he thought back, he would remember that he got a room at the very end of the hall, five doors down from the nearest other patron.
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
...
Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
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Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 28, 2016 13:06:58 GMT -8
Seeing the smoke start to leak in from under the door, Maes grabbed the towel from the bath and used it to seal the gap. If this was a trap, they'd probably be expecting him to come out the window by this point. He could certainly give them what they wanted, and a little more...
But not yet. If the fire were a trap or a diversion, they wouldn't let it get out of hand. At worst, it might be several minutes before another member of the staff or guest noticed the smoke. And if they were willing to let an entire hotel burn down to flush out one man, then he had to have a little respect for their tenacity.
Instead, he slung his belongings over his shoulder like a pack and ducked down next to the door. He kept listening.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 13:21:07 GMT -8
The fire noises and the smoke continue. As he sits next to the door, he hears a clank from the window. If he were to look, he'd see that some sort of heavy metal sheet has been placed over his window from the outside, blocking it. Looks like someone has had enough of being subtle.
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
...
Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
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Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 28, 2016 13:42:51 GMT -8
Well that was new. He had expected men to be waiting outside the window, but it looks like they had gotten tired of that. Looks like he was going to have to do this the hard way.
Of the two of his powers he'd grown accustomed to, the preternatural fear he could cause in folks was probably the one he was most comfortable with. He didn't enjoy hurting people if he didn't have to. He reached down into his being and drew forth that power now. If any regular man saw him, all they would see was a terror so real they'd flee, and barring that, most curled up into the fetal position, crying to themselves for it to stop.
Maes kicked the table out from where it had wedged the door shut, but left the towel in place. One, it would continue to stop the smoke from coming in to choke him, and two, any attacker that tried to burst through the door would be stymied, even if only for a moment. He turned the lock open and then rattled the knob and coughed loudly. "I can't open the door," he shouted and coughed again.
He propped himself up against the wall next to the door and waited.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 13:49:52 GMT -8
The smoke stops for a moment, and a flat stick is pushed under the door to shove the towel away. It seems that they have caught on that the smoke isn't getting in. Shoved in right beside the stick is a small tube. There's a whoosh of bellows being pumped, and a cloud of glittery dust is pumped into the room. Maes might notice that the sounds of fire have stopped.
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
...
Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
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Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 28, 2016 14:03:05 GMT -8
Seeing the tube push the towel out of the way, Maes tries to back away quickly. The puff of glittery powder is unexpected though. Unsure if he got out of range of the newest threat, he slides further back along the wall. If they just kept filling the room with whatever that was, he had no real way of getting through it, save holding his breath and diving through the door. He suspects that won't end well, even with his terrible aspect manifested.
There was no helping it now. He'd have to try the trick he used when the cartel had him trapped in the basement. He stood up and thought about where he wanted to go. The first time, the only destination that popped into mind was the alley where he'd fought with Redagar's men. This time he had more options. He concentrated on the place he thought would be safest and said aloud "drumen quantin portas!"
And nothing happened.
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Deleted
Roleplay posts: 0
Registered: Nov 21, 2024 6:22:06 GMT -8
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Post by Deleted on Feb 28, 2016 14:07:59 GMT -8
The room fills with fairy dust, the cloud of sparkles billowing from the tube with every pump. Soon, Maes would have to take a breath and inhale a near-fatal dose of fairy dust. Certainly, it would be enough to knock him out as the stars danced before his eyes and the sparkles filled his mind.
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Maes
Established
Roleplay posts: 40
Age: 23
Physical Description: Maes is human, and stands at five feet and eight inches, all parts frail and spindly. His skin is a shade of alabaster so pale that dark veins and bright arteries can be seen beneath, sometimes appearing to crawl beneath the flesh of their own volition. His eyes seem the color of a worn road stone, grey and lifeless. Lusterless black hair, several inches too long, dangles from his white scalp in uneven cuts. Despite his graven appearance, no mark of exertion, be it sweat or road-dust, seem to settle on him.
...
Clothes and Equipment: Dark, frayed robes hang from Maes's gaunt frame, as though someone had thrown a bed linen over a wrought iron fence. A jagged looking medallion of opaque white crystal clings to the dark cloth as though the chain on which it dangles is only decoration. In stark contrast, his boots look nearly immaculate, evidence perhaps of a past life of luxury, or merely an opportune acquisition from one who enjoyed it.
...
Registered: Feb 20, 2016 17:23:10 GMT -8
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Post by Maes on Feb 28, 2016 14:14:05 GMT -8
The glittery dust kept pumping into the room, and Maes kept repeating the words, getting more desperate with each recitation. He started to feel a little odd. This didn't feel the same as the drug that Elin had used in his ale. Everything seemed to be getting... Nicer? "Drumen quantin portas! Drumen quantin portas!" He kept repeating as the world got a little more shiny each passing second. Soon he was starting to stagger, unable to stand up straight. Suddenly, the voice, having long been absent, burst into his ears. "Drumen quantin portas!" it shouted. Maes recited it again, his tongue barely able to form the words at this point. And then the room was empty. [Exit to the Streets of Travere] |
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