| "Sure is." The mercenary stepped in through the tent, smelling of ashes. He pulled back his hood and grinned at Auric. "So word on the street is that there's some maniac royalty running around, cleaving hundreds of men through-and-through with a magical sword." Quietstorm cracked his kncukles absent-mindedly. "Now, magical blades are pretty rare this end of the Kingdom. Only other thing I can think of that's like a magical sword is a Spellblade. Only Spellblade I know about is you. So I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that you've been out and about, doing some enforcing of one sort or another. Probably no more than five, maybe six people." The mercenary dusted off some fine ash from his cloak, momentarily grimacing at the state of his attire. "What makes me curious is the part about royalty. Know anything about that?"
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"My word is my honor. My honor is my life."
-- Demonchild, Angelkin, the Blackest Seraph, the Final Warrior
"Cut down the Gods if they stand in you way."
-- Hagakure |