[center][img]https://s13.postimg.org/vlorzzvd3/Xen_Desh_Idlindra.png[/img]
[b]Location:[/b] The Hall[/center]
[hr]

[color=silver]"Mercy it is, then."[/color] Xen finally spoke after counting the stones inside the container. He looked over to Vert, his gaze passive but meaningful. He looked over to the party gathered. These chosen champions who are to do the work kingdoms could not accomplish. Somehow this rag-tag bunch of misfits and do-gooders were supposed to cooperate and funnier still, stem the tide of an impending apocalypse. His gaze shifted finally toward Vert and he made his way toward her, allowing the silence of the hall to seem cavernous and cold. He raised his staff and placed it perpendicular to the ground, aiming it towards Vert's midsection.

[color=silver]"Know this. Your life is spared, but you may yet forfeit it. Cross them, and they will see you to the gallows. Cross [i]me[/i] and I will personally see to it your soul is flayed for a millennia."[/color] His gaze narrows slowly as the tip of the staff touched the bonds that held her. Like snakes that shed their mortal coil, they withered and lost grip and fell to the floor. [color=silver]"The rest of you,[/color] he said as he turned to the face the gathering, [color=silver]stock up on rations, fill your waterskins, sharpen your blades, and bend the dents from your armor. We set out in one hour from the west gate."[/color]

With that, Xen left the hall and proceeded to visit the herbalist in town to stock up on remedies and his pipeweed. As practical as his decision was, Xen still felt that the Cursed One would be better off serving a pike. Unfortunately, with what little information they have to go on, and the nature of the goal at hand, sacrificing such a knowledge pool would be blasphemous. He only hoped that this decision would not come back and haunt them in the end. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the thought flashed across his mind. He was not lying about bringing the wrath of oblivion among the betrayers.

Suddenly, as fast as all the other thoughts, his mind was back on that field of death. Decades ago it was when he swore to himself he would not weave against another. It is funny how things have a way of backfiring.