Post by The Flying Ve on May 21, 2010 15:07:12 GMT -5
Enough is enough.
The robed and hooded man tosses his silken mask into the tithe plate, then pours oil over it and lights it aflame.
"The shadows of Cormyr are a farce. I want no part in them.", contempt burns through every cold syllable: "I refuse to stoop to the level of a stupid thug or, gods help me, a harper to get things done. Pointless bickering, petty drama, pathetic interrelations and sex as the currency of choice instead of coin, unlike any other sane place." The man snarls angrily, then brings an iron clad fist down on the altar: "I am leaving! Enough is enough! Roll over and suck the teats of some pathetic devil for all I care, I am...", he breaks off for a moment, then rears his head back and laughs madly: "What I do best, what I did best."
He takes out a quill pen and dips it in clotting red ink:
All things die, even faith. If you read this, Grey, I am deeply sorry, but I can only take so much inanity. I do hope, if we see each other again, you can forgive me and maybe put things right where they should be. Teach them what it means to worship Mask, and not their own lust, stupidity and vanity. I still owe you those boots, don't let me forget it.
S.K.
This he rolls into a tube and puts into a small alcove. Then etches the following into the plating of the altar with a red glowing finger:
I know more about you, than you will ever know about me. Think on that a bit.
Without a further word, he turns and leaves.
Last favour I can do her. 'm too old fer this crap...
The robed and hooded man tosses his silken mask into the tithe plate, then pours oil over it and lights it aflame.
"The shadows of Cormyr are a farce. I want no part in them.", contempt burns through every cold syllable: "I refuse to stoop to the level of a stupid thug or, gods help me, a harper to get things done. Pointless bickering, petty drama, pathetic interrelations and sex as the currency of choice instead of coin, unlike any other sane place." The man snarls angrily, then brings an iron clad fist down on the altar: "I am leaving! Enough is enough! Roll over and suck the teats of some pathetic devil for all I care, I am...", he breaks off for a moment, then rears his head back and laughs madly: "What I do best, what I did best."
He takes out a quill pen and dips it in clotting red ink:
All things die, even faith. If you read this, Grey, I am deeply sorry, but I can only take so much inanity. I do hope, if we see each other again, you can forgive me and maybe put things right where they should be. Teach them what it means to worship Mask, and not their own lust, stupidity and vanity. I still owe you those boots, don't let me forget it.
S.K.
This he rolls into a tube and puts into a small alcove. Then etches the following into the plating of the altar with a red glowing finger:
I know more about you, than you will ever know about me. Think on that a bit.
Without a further word, he turns and leaves.
Last favour I can do her. 'm too old fer this crap...