Same as usual, Muirin was travelling on behalf of a bounty.
This time in particular, the call of gold brought him just about as far as he'd ever gone before. He had visited Cerak At'thul thrice during his career as a mercenary, but two of those occasions were more for pleasure. This fourth...
His boots on the wooden floor of the inn. Heavy footfalls. Foreboding drums. The beat of a sure and steady doom. The rings of his chainmail hauberk clinking, metal on metal, as he walked down the hallway. A tower of a man. His wide-brimmed hat scraping lightly against the ceiling. He wore a...
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