"Jem....." Awrygan spoke slowly. The young man's face was awash with emotions, a mixture of disbelief, satisfaction, anger, and fear. Awrygan retrieved his weapons, wiped them clean on the dead man's cloak, and sheathed them. He turned back to the boy who was standing with his sword idly in his hand. "You forgot to clean your blade, young pirate." Jem raised his head and spoke with effort. "I am no pirate."
Awrygan's face held an amused expression at the young man's words. "I see...." He reached around and pulled out the stone that had embedded itself in his back with a curse. A small but steady stream of red flowed out. It would have to wait. He tied a small sash around it and turned to his companions. "We really should be leaving."
[ March 30, 2003: Message edited by: Carrūn ]
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"Dic, hospes, Spartae, nos te hic vidisse iacentes dum sanctis patriae legibus obsequimur."
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