Salak’nor cursed as he stepped over the Gnome corpse, the ugly thing had attacked him out of nowhere, and to make matters worst, it had caused him to dirty the hem of his black robes, sighing he sat down on the ground.
He was tired, the shadow magic he was using was far more physcially and mentally taxing than those shamanistic arts. Lying back on the soft grass, shadowed by trees he slept…
With a start Salak awoke, he looked around, it was almost night moving himself into a sitting position he loved at his left arm for a moment, then mechanically unwrapped the red silk cloth around his upper arm. As the flesh beneath the cloth was revealed Salak grimaced, in the moonlight the words that never healed on his arm glittered brightly, standing out against his skin, they read in the ancient Gurubashi
“All Hail Hakkar”
Salak looked at the disgusting “scar”...he had carried it for soo long and yet no amount of regeneration or even magic of the Emperor himself could heal it, it brought back so many memories. For a moment he simply stared at it before sighing and shaking his head, curse you Rathess…you sit beside the Emperor as his guard and yet you were capable of this only a year ago…
Salak never understood why Tziak trusted the fool priest, yet it was not Salak’s place to question the ruler of Trolls.
Rewrapping the cloth around his arm he stood up and looked around
When would he find another of his empire? He had been gone too long...for all Salak knew the emperor could be dead...no not that never that...the spirits would tell him...wouldn't they?
And so the priest walked off into the night, with renewed fears of what he would find once he met his brothers and sisters again.
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