The First

Brief notes about things that are being talked about at the Inn. Not to provide OOC knowledge but events that happened in the open and which other characters could overhear as public gossip. Does not replace the newspaper.

The First

Postby Archaon on Mon Nov 30, 2015 4:40 am

Since the fateful day the great Archaon had been run through, his blood spilled upon the cold and rotten earth beyond the monolithic Umbara, it remained silent. The corruption within him spread across the land with his death at the epicenter. Umbara was a slaughterhouse. The dead piled upon every floor of every level inside the wretched darkness. Blood curdled and splattered across dark stone. The level of death and corruption was unmatched in those halls. It had no warning. No notice. It had come, and it had gone. Archaon, however, was nowhere to be found.

He had died that day.. the Battle at Umbara. That much was sure. Where did his corpse go? Some knew of the tremendous power that lay dormant in the staff he so treasures and carries with him at all times. Some say he could never truly die. One thing was certain, and that is that his body had disappeared from the slaughter. Did Archaon rise from the dead as he was known to do? Did someone steal his body? Perhaps someone even destroyed him once and for all. No one truly knows, except for one.

Umbara was perhaps cleansed of that day by now. It had been months since. There had been no sightings. No uneasy presence. Wraith and Spectre, his two strong mephos, had not been seen in as many days. His own castle even lay unkempt. Vines and rotted leaves floating freely about the courtyard. His precious beasts fending for themselves within the castle, tearing at the stores for sustenance. Not even his personal catacombs were safe. Bones and foetid meat littered the stairwell.

As the silent days and weeks pass, a solitary figure begins to roam within the world. Gaunt, cloaked in blackness that even pure midnight sky would be envious of. This figure roamed the world on horseback.. or what seemed to be horseback. It was ghostly in its appearance. No noises, no neighs or whinnies. Not even the sound of any armor clanging together upon the rider as this mysterious figure waded effortlessly through the forest as if no trees existed, before fading away into the nothingness within the forest.

There was no true purpose for this figure's presence that could be discerned. It had come. Like a stealthy apparition, it would appear from the forest, only to disappear as suddenly and quietly as it had appeared to those whom caught a glimpse of the rider. Was it scouting? Was it perhaps stalking, or was it seeking? It made no movements outside of appearance and disapperence, and any attempts of locating this specter had come up with nothing. No hoofprints, no footprints, nothing. Strange sightings of this mysterious wraith on supposed horseback also point it towards Umbara's location, scouring the land where the dark lord had died before disappearing like the wind towards the wooded land and out of sight.

Perhaps no one will know of this apparition's purpose, whether it will prove good.. or prove ill.
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The Second

Postby Archaon on Wed Dec 02, 2015 9:10 pm

As whispers begin to spread of this mysterious figure that darts through the forest, something else emerges. From the marshes where goblins roam, a second figure makes its presence known in a far more audible way. Armored to the teeth, far larger than the shadowy rider, the heavy gait of a steed that was as large as the largest of clydesdales thundered through the muck and mire. Behind this new figure lay bodies. Those unfortunate to cross the hulking tank were graced with a swift death at the end of a jagged and brutal cleaver of a sword that no man could wield as easily as this machine of war.

Unlike the stealthy approach of the dark and wraith-like one, this brute of a rider thundered across paths and rode on without care of being seen or heard. Large steed prints left in the wake of his charging mount, this bloodstained warrior strode on through the world with a purpose. He stopped for nothing, waited for no one.

In nearly a quarter day's time, he'd gone from the marshes where he had laid waste to the unsuspecting, to charging forth into the forest. Twigs and branches unfortunate to be in the way of this warmonger snapped with ease, while the earth gave way to the steed's tremendous gait, leaving a trail of prints that left the dirt tainted with dark, oily looking liquid. It rank of rotten meat that had stayed in the sun far longer than it should, mingled with a strong smell of metal. Not even the hungry predators of the forest would get near this stench.

The black wraith that had come prior to this warrior's arrival had also stirred once again. Like before, it would emerge from the darkness of the forest and arrive back to the land before Umbara, only this time, it was not alone. With the gaunt shadow, the massive war machine of a warrior had come to the same location. They circled the epicenter despite being in the open field. Their care was not focused on being stealthly or unseen.

For the massive mountain, he would dismount with an armored thud. His steed was equally as armored, unseen beneath the shield of metal except for those eyes. They burned like fire. The armored figure walked towards that very place where Archaon had fallen, clenching that cleaving blade as if it were a stick, and it would slam the blade down into the dirt to create a circular rend about the location. An armored fist blistered the dirt at the northern point of the circle, leaving behind a red rage. The ghostly shadow of a rider would also dismount and approach, placing what seemed to be his hand upon the ground upon the western side. Nothing was left behind visibly after this touch to the earth just yet, but once they were finished with this strange ritual, the riders mounted up, and disappeared to their respective locations.

Whatever is going on, the epicenter of it all seems to be where the dark necromancer had been felled.
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The Third

Postby Archaon on Tue Dec 08, 2015 8:30 am

Now that the epicenter had been "prepared" of sorts by the two mysterious beings, things had fallen quiet once more. There hadn't been sightings, sounds, hoofprints, nothing. The gouged circle in the earth was ragged looking. It festered of raw angst, of bloodlust. The ghastly handprint turned the earth black around it. It felt of primordial doom, death, despair. The fist mark had left a pulsing red.. the fire of battle and anger.

As the days rolled on by without so much as a sound from those two mysterious visitors, a cloud of something began to manifest in the air. It moved as if a massive flock of birds synchronously flew towards a destination. It grew larger, the sound of buzzing originating from this cloud. A separate cloud rose up from the forest canopy and converged with the other, increasing its size. This larger cloud buzzed towards that very place, but it stopped prior to approaching the wounded earth.

Once this cloud of buzzing mystery paused itself, a skeletal figure emerged from the forest upon the back of an equally skeletal steed. At a slow trot, this undead figure strode towards this massive plague hovering in the air. Without missing a beat, this figure moved into this cloud, and suddenly took a much more physical shape.. molding upon the bones and forming one being.

This strange new arrival approached the circle, just as the other two had done before, and with what could only be a hand, it touched the earth upon the eastern side of the circle. A sickly green power began to wound the dirt, as if it were infecting that one spot with some sort of disease, or combination of diseases. The ground itself bubbled, burst and stank of ungodly sickness.

Once the earth had pustulated and boiled about this figure's hand, it would turn calmly towards the steed, and mount as if this was something natural and routine. With a ghastly neigh, the steed turned back towards the forest and galloped away. The buzzing plague that gave this one shape suddenly burst away, returning to its natural state. Bugs, flies, all manner of insect and arachnid, poisonous or not.

Still, what was the purpose of this? Who were these odd creatures that had taken an interest in this very location?
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The Fourth

Postby Archaon on Mon Dec 21, 2015 5:47 pm

Days and nights have come and gone now since the arrival of the three mysterious riders, and not a peep from them since making their presence known. Had they done their work, or are they simply patient, waiting for the right moment? The epicenter, the very marked place upon the cold earth where the drak had died, and then gone missing, still radiated with power. Cold, unliving power that had awoken.. something.

The Winter Solstice draws closer, and yet still the Three had not made a move, or have they ever been found since arriving. The dirt where they had branded their mark still pulses with their energy. The land lay silent; a cold, eerie silence that not even the dead could hope to achieve. A faint foggy mist had begun to rise from the ground, but it would be out of season for such a thing.

The deathly silence would soon be broken as a figure emerged from the darkness. A gaunt, lithe looking figure upon an equally waif-like steed, as if they had not eaten in days, emerged. As if just by sheer presence, plant life began to wither and desiccate.. sapped of their nurturing sustenance. The cold earth hardened, as if any presence of water was siphoned away to simply vanish.

The wide eyed, ghastly figure halted just as it would make the clearing to the very field where it was all unfolding. Skin tight upon bone, pale, famished looking. No hair, and a blank, expressionless visage. Just as it happened in the past, the riders would emerge along with the newly added component. The deathly shadow. The mountainous juggernaut. The insect-encrusted anomaly, and now the waifish desiccator. They would all converge upon the spot.

Each one would converge upon their mark and dismount, standing before their sustained rune. The energy radiated stronger in their presence. The waifish new arrival then dismounted to approach the unmarked location left for it to prepare. The misty fog that had arisen was drawn towards this new figure, as if it were sapping the moisture, devouring the sustaining mist, feeding from the earth and robbing it of its nutrients before it would place a boney hand upon the ground.

Instantly the dirt turned black and hard, robbed of any life sustaining purity it may had once held, as if something was done to prevent any grass from growing in this very spot ever again. Whatever these figures were, they were not only mysterious, but they held something far more powerful within themselves that none could hope to achieve or survive.

As the fourth rider had done what it had come to do, a sudden rumble tremored through the ground from that epicenter. Above the ground, a hideous visage slowly manifested itself from this gathering of strength and power. A crested head appeared. Eyeless, yet could still somehow see everything as plain as anyone with eyes. Two small slits that could only be nostrils, and a sharptoothed, skeletal maw that could rip and tear anything asunder. Without so much as moving its jaw, a deep, forboding voice spoke only briefly.


"It is time.."

The four riders nodded their heads before they would turn and disappear, almost linear from their markings upon the ground. Those markings began to hum a low thrum, strong in their dark and twisted origins. Any that pass by would feel as if an end had come. The grasp of death. The unending hunger for food. The scratch of bugs. The lust for battle. It all radiated now from that spot.. contained to that area. Something.. or someone, is coming.
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Preparation

Postby Archaon on Wed Jan 13, 2016 4:57 am

The outskirts of Umbara.. cold, silent.. almost a haunting feeling in the air as if there were dreadful eyes boring down from the skies to the frozen earth. Some now have seen the return of Umbara's master, the obsidian scaled drak known as Archaon. With his return, something else had perhaps followed in the wake of rebirth from the Deadlands.

The dead circle in the fields continued to radiate pure void, death.. like a black hole sapping light from everything, this circle allowed no life. Plants and grass ceased to exist. Unfortunate critters disintegrated, littering bones around. Not even the snow could find a grasp upon this circle of blackness. The four that had prepared this inhuman circle had not been seen since its creation, nor has that mysterious visage that seemed to control them, but that silence would soon be broken.

From the leafless woods, the four beings strode in together with a hefty cart being pulled behind them by their steeds. This cart, unfortunately, was no ordinary cart.. but more of a meat wagon, and the meat was corpses. The riders would fling these corpses upon that life-stealing circle like an offering, devouring the life's essence and the meat from the bones.

This would go on for roughly an hour's time as the offerings were dumped crudely upon the circle, disintegrated, and reduced to specs of nothing whilst the final scents of life and flesh were consumed by the dark void. The bones would also be drawn into this consuming evil, crushed, broken, and ultimately turned to dust.. scattered to the chilled wind of winter as if they held no further purpose.

The visage re-emerged, sounding rather satisfied.


"Excellent. Soon.. this life-ridden land shall soon know true darkness.."
the voice hissed out in the cold night, whilst the riders nodded in acceptance.

"Go now. Do not relent. Do not tire. Reap life, sow destruction. Feed me their corpseflesh."

And with that, the riders once again would mount and disappear. Lands beyond the Empire ravaged, entire towns and villages smote out of existence, and not one word of these incursions could reach an ear. There were no prisoners. No survivors. No remorse.

The circle continued to radiate.
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A concerned researcher's report

Postby Naomh on Tue Jan 26, 2016 12:21 am

Keani paced back and forth within the room of Unigo, nibbling her lip as she tried to sort her thoughts, what she had learned today, into a coherent letter for the person she had asked for help to write. The notes on the desk nearby weren't looked at, no need, all the words were in her mind, just the drawings upon them were needed to help spur on Keani's memory and get the young mage started.

To Archmage Miyuka and Headmaster Twerlinger,

As you both may know, a circle has formed upon the soil outside of the tower Umbara, upon the very same location where Lord and Headmaster of Umbara Archaon was slain during the capture of the phoenix stone within the tower. Rumours of mysterious riders visiting the area have been heard, and hearing that the ground is void of everything, even snow, I decided to go and investigate with another from Unigo who is writing this letter for me now.

This corrupted circle is in fact not just devoid of all life, but of everything physical except soil. Extremely powerful necromantic magic is at work within the grounds, the use of a detect magic spell was almost painful and the feel in the air... I truly believe the magic there is stronger than even what the Archmage can muster without assistance. A plant I had collected to see the effects of this area upon life wilted and turned to dust before our very eyes. I had attempted to collect some of the soil with a spade to store and bring in for closer study, but upon contact with the ground the iron began to rust. Startled, I tossed the tool where it landed within the grounds and slowly disintegrated. The wood rotted, the iron rusted, then just like the plant slowly became dust. The thought of what may have happened should I had touched the ground myself terrifies me.

As terrifying as the aforementioned is, it is only part of what we have discovered. Upon the ground near the edge of the circle are four markings. One for each cardinal direction, west side of the circle, east side, south and north. The markings weren't near as dangerous as the circle thankfully, but the air around them had an effect on me when I was near nonetheless. Severe hunger near one, a disturbing sensation of insects upon my body near another, what I could only call battlelust by the third and the final one... the final one was the very caress of death itself. Outside of the markings, and the circle still, were multiple tracks, footprints, hoof prints from horses of different sizes, the markings of a wagon and snow reddened by I suspect blood.

We then went to the tower Umbara itself, in hopes that someone within had seen the source of the tracks and prints in the snow and were willing to share. There we met the Headmaster Archaon himself.

Archaon told me he had only heard about the circle, he had not gone outside to investigate it himself due to the weather. He asked for my notes and upon seeing the copies of the markings we made, told me more than I was ready to hear.

A long time ago, before the Ilfirian Empire, there was a place was known as Shaharezhar, in the great desert near what is now Sha'shir, scrolls were found that contained a prophecy that said a child born with the marking of the Great Eye would doom the land. The child had grown of age, but had a father who mistreated him and he grew much hatred for. Forming a pact with their god of darkness and killed him, his own father. In doing so he unleashed destruction upon Shaharezhar. Death, fire, starvation, plagues, people killing their own. Shaharezhar was lost to the sands now turned black, the dead wandered lost and The Doombringer as he was then called was cursed to rule the nothingness. All that supposedly remains is a single obelisk of obsidian in the middle of the scorched Desert of the Doomed... the last relic of Cham Er, the great destroyer. Their god of darkness.

He told me of this story as the markings he saw were familiar to him, though 'not of this world', he seemed certain that these four hoursemen are likely Cham Er's. We came to the belief that the circle is a sacrificial one... used to feed the energies within, and the Doombringer himself through it. It is uncertain if anything can be done with the circle at this time, and should the riders be successful and power the Doombringer, what can be done about him. Finding a way to stop the riders seems to be the only theory we have... but Archaon did not know of any way to do so at this time. After receiving the information I thanked Archaon and returned to Unigo to get these reports written and brought to you as soon as possible. With them are a copy of the notes I had written down. I am also having another copy sent to Archaon himself to see if they may be of further use to him.

Hopefully nothing comes of this, or if it does, this information can be of use to prepare and put a stop to it before it gets any worse.

-Assistant Researcher Keani Seabreeze
-Penned by...

P.S. Archaon also wanted me to ask you both about the possibility of having Umbara's phoenix stone returned to the tower.




Keani asked the writer to repeat the letter and nodded, thanking him for his help and got to work making the copies of the notes before sending the reports out.
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Re: The First

Postby miyuka on Tue Jan 26, 2016 6:16 pm

After reading the message sent to her by Keani, Miyuka ponders for just a few moments before sending a reply:

Thank you for such quick work on attempting to ascertain the properties of this odd circle. I had long since suspected that this had something to do with Cham-Er as it was suggested by a half goblin known as Eloise who seems to be rather acquainted with this death god. What I first thought was just silly ramblings on her part are starting to sound more and more true as time goes on. Perhaps she is a part of this whole thing and is either really good at hiding it, or completely unaware that she's being used by the god she seems to love, fear, and idolize so much. At this point in time, I'm not sure what we can do outside of continue to gather information upon this. I do know that we'll have to leave it up to Lord Archaon to try and get to the bottom of it and offer all of our support to him when he needs it...even if he thinks or says he doesn't need it, we will assist him in this. Now is one of those times for both of the towers to be fully working together. As far as the Phoenix gem goes, we have already been in talks with Amara about its return. Now it is just a matter of when and how. I will not be divulging too much detail for fear that someone we don't want may get their hands on such information. Do let him know that it is not being held for any reason other than security and the delivery has just been delayed is all.

-Anita Eleanore Miyuka Althena Kitara Alanis Mezzot Valentine, Archmage
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Re: The First

Postby miyuka on Mon Feb 08, 2016 8:32 pm

While rumors and speculations swirled about the strange circle of death, there was one who had some inkling of what was going on, or at least she was led to believe such a thing. The wild looking Eloise, half goblin, half human, though she claimed only her goblin side and with it, like other goblins, that chaotic side of hers. She believed in her heart that this circle was a sign of non other than Cham-Er and he spoke to her, through her dreams of what to do. She had to tend to this circle and it's runes. Help to nurture it. She would not question why. She was a loyal servant of the death god and his word was absolute. She, of course, had to be careful as to when she was around. If anyone were to see her and ask what she was doing, her answer to them would be that she was helping the towers research and understand the circle, but it was a lie. Her goals were far greater than that of the towers. Soon they would see and understand. This empire seemed to not recognize Cham-Er as the true god that he is, but she hoped that she could change such views. Eloise spent time quite literally sacrificing different things to the circle, animals, weapons she pilfered from would be bandits that tested her patience...the bandits themselves at times. Always in secret, not wishing to be caught before her precious God had gotten what he needed.

Today she had been visited by another strange dream, but this time it wasn't one that directed her back to the circle. This time she was guided to a place that was most special to her...and to him. The obelisk in those blackened sands where she had first met Cham-Er. Where he had gifted her with his powers before she, backed by a legion of undead, completely decimated the settlement that belonged to the humans that took her goblin family away from her. It was there where she came to be a true believer in Cham-Er and while her travels had taken her far away and she had experienced plenty of things since then, she never once forgot about him and his gift and his power. It was no surprise now, that she'd have such a dream, such joy mixed with incredible fear at witnessing this dark power.

Eloise woke up in her room within Matwyn's tower, the place she now called her home after having first being exiled to it to safeguard those within the castle thanks to the Necromancer incident. Without a word to anyone, not even her beloved owner, Grendalyn, Eloise put on her rather provocative mage robes, slipped on her boots, grabbed her precious book, and along with her scythe, headed out the door, off the grounds to retrieve and summon her minion. The last anyone from Nanthalion would see her was at the large Transitional portal within the forest where she took the portal to the Southern desert to retrieve what her god had ordered her to get. Sand from the very obelisk where his power was great.
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Re: The First

Postby miyuka on Tue Feb 23, 2016 5:19 am

Weeks had passed since anyone had seen or heard of Eloise. There was no doubt some were worried about her, surprising that someone like her was capable of making friends, let alone having some few that actually cared about her, but she was doing the work of her God, Cham-Er. Her loved ones had to wait. It took her a long time of traveling in the desert, not even really prepared for such a journey, yet somehow making it, nearly dehydrated and starved. Death meant nothign to her. Only serving the Death God and fulfilling her duty to him mattered. She had made it! She was upon holy ground and she could feel his incredibly power now more than ever. It was delightfully frightening. Her legs almost didn't want to work as such incredible fear cascaded over her form and the sense of absolute death filled the air around her.

Eloise had no idea how long she had sat there, kneeling before the obelisk, praying to the death god whilst filling a jar with the sand from around the dark obelisk. The longer she stayed there, the more she felt as if her life was being stolen, but not once did she falter and stop her task. It was not the first time she had been in this situation...in this very place. She had, after all, come here to die after having gotten lost in the desert, but it was through Cham-Er's guidance that she had made it through the treacherous desert to find this Obelisk. It was here where she had kneeled and offered herself to Cham-Er to gain his favor and his power to slaughter an entire village in revenge and in his honor. Everything she did from that point on, was for her God. If he wished her to do something, she would not hesitate, hence why she was here filling this jar with sand...with his power.

It wasn't until a few days later that Eloise had been sighted again, traveling back to Nanthalion with that jar filled with sand secured at her waste, the woman so weak and strained that she was using her scythe as a walking stick. Even the trip through the portal was a pain for her. If this was a test, it was quite the annoying one, but at the very least, now that she was no longer near that obelisk she could feel her strength slowly but surely returning. Eloise's head was pounding from her nearly dehydrated and malnourished state, but it didn't stop her from traveling from the main portal site to Umbara so she could fulfill Cham-Er's wishes. His circle needed his power to help fuel it and she had brought exactly that in her sand filled jar.
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Re: The First

Postby Archaon on Fri Mar 04, 2016 5:57 am

With the circle in full preparation, everything had gone silent. Long days and cold nights gripped with suspicion and wonder. Would there ever be more done with this? Where had the riders gone? Now that the presence of the circle is more well known, some begin to suspect. The silent vigil of Cham'Er watched from above and below, from within and without. He sees those trying to discern his nexus, yet they have no idea what now taints their land. His insider, the faithful half goblin, had been sent to gather the sand from whence his origins lay. The final catalyst of his reimagining back unto the world that all but forgotten him. The Flayer of Souls, Doom of Shaharezhar, and now.. Progenitor of the Four.

Across the lands, the Horsemen began to stir. From the North, the Aspect of Famine had begun laying waste to the food stores of the frozen, and watched as hunger gripped and panicked the people into a blind frenzy of necessity to survive. Crops withered. Meat rotted and stunk of rancid waste. Water tasted of iron. It all added to the swelling presence.

To the West, plagues and diseases of various kinds broke out across many villages. The sick so ravaged, that none dared get close for fear of contracting their contagions. The dead were burned to prevent the spreading pestilence, yet not even that would halt the oncoming swath of virulent sickness. Those wise enough, and healthly enough, fled into the wilderness to seek help.

To the South, clashing factions erupt into full scale war over trivial matters, or just for the sake of bloodshed. Arms and armor purchased, taken, and used in higher numbers, battles scoured across the land leaving untold bloodshed and countless dead across the land. Reports of an unimaginably large, and heavily armored figure were reported shortly before these confusing skirmishes broke out. The lust of battle and blood grew strong.

To the East was the cold hand of death itself. Without warning, people began dying mysteriously. Causes could not be found, but unfortunately for the living.. that was just the beginning. The dead soon rose back to life, attacking the living. Loved ones, friends, families.. perishing at the merciless and cold hand of undeath. Fear and panic widespread as survivors desperately fled in search of help.

All of this.. this carnage, death, fear. All of it fed him. It fed him greatly, almost moreso than the circle.


"Gather and await." his word echoed upon the horsemen.

One by one, those horsemen rode onward. They rode once again towards the very circle of pure death that they had consecrated with their runes. What purpose now was in store for these seemingly abhorrent figures was only known to their progenitor.

As the four would finally reach the circle that taints the very existence of reality and life, one by one the four would take their place.

First, the aspect of Famine. A frail, thin shell of an elven female in appearance, hair grey, clumped, and teeth missing, she would stride towards her mark. An assured step taken to enter the space occupied by her rune, the aspect would suddenly take a more dense appearance as it assumed a form of stone.. essentially a fearsome statue.

Second came the aspect of Pestilence. The buzzing, hissing, clicking, chittering mass of insects that seemingly takes a cohesive, sentient humanoid shape strode to its own rune. There, it would have the same effect as it had with Famine. Another abomination of a statue.

Third strode the aspect of War. Easily the largest of the four in height and mass, this towering behemoth took the form of a minotaur, surpassing thirteen feet with ease. Armor as black as night, encrusted with blood and spoils of many battles and a blade that would certainly cleave the earth in two, the imposing figure of battle took his runic place amongst the others.

Lastly.. the aspect of Death. The shadowy figure carried with it a scythe.. a very grisly scythe that could carve a man's soul in two, it would also take its place upon the runic location left behind a time ago by its own hand.

What this meant was nothing short of pride and power. Perhaps a mounted defense, or simply a time of regeneration to reap the rewards of suffering anew. Only Cham'Er had his reasons, and his reasons required this circle, and the sand.
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