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Post by Ska'ar Wulfsiger on Nov 18, 2010 21:19:13 GMT -5
The Urik-hai king looked at the bear's head, ill-shaven and mangled to look like the proud chieftain Rowan. He sniffed the air a few times and growled out in Elvish tongue: "Deceiver!! I smell not the blood of a shapeshifter! You will pay for your treachery!"
An alarm was sounded throughout the city as Furyun attempted to escape the guards. It was a shame that he'd have to be set up as a pawn for this scheme to work, unknowing that this alarm was the sole intention of his delegate mission from the mercenary company which would be defunct by morning. It was a pity so many had to be deceived, that this long plot could come to fruition. But Furyun was an immortal, like many of the heroes of the lands, he'd re-awaken a few days later in his own bed after killing himself in his cell rather than be tortured for information. He would reawaken, much like many others of the Northern Steppes had done many times before, slowly acquiring the information they sought or the distractions necessary to acquire it, all leading to today's small victory in an ageless war.
Rowan sent Duke back to the village, his safety was now compromised. He knew full well what was going down, though he dreaded the thought. He made his way to the filthiest of all inns in the lands, the Scurvy Wench, and walked toward the back table, where a man in a black hood and robes sat, waiting...
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