Garik slipped on the wet rock as sand transitioned to stone. It was a fortuitous turn as an arrow grazed deeply along his shoulder instead of finding a home in his torso. It stung horribly but he would take it over the alternative.
Luckily, a return volley gave Garik a moment to push himself...
Burning heavens... Garik was beginning to truly detest these islands more and more. Worse still was the distant way in which the Dreadlord taskmasters utilized their lowly initiates. Valuable as they were, they were also lowly enough to still be somewhat expendable. None more so than Garik, who...
Garik didn't like it. Not one bit. Dabbling in the affairs of other lands while their own still was as flawed as it was. Yet, service came with expectations. Soldiers followed orders, so it truly mattered little what Garik thought on the matter. So he kept it to himself. Deal with the mission...
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