[hr][center][@JohnSolaris] [b][color=maroon]Zaerith Dustborn[/color][/b][/center][hr][i]Ha![/i] The voice in Zaerith’s mind barked out a harsh sound that he alone can hear. [i]And there we have it! There was never a true cause to doubt my capabilities and my promise, my dear vassal, now was there?[/i]

For once, Zaerith felt humored enough to respond. [i]Let’s not kid ourselves here, my liege. This was but mere happenstance and we both know it.[/i]

[i]Regardless, this is your chance, is it not?[/i] The voice beginning to fill with the sadistic glee that was the one thing Zaerith knows all too well.

There was no longer the need to reply, not to the obvious. There was, however, the need to ask further questions of the blind storytelling gypsy.

[color=maroon]“You say you are looking for heroes, to end your lord’s curse,”[/color] Zaerith began, [color=maroon]“but how can you be sure that we are at all even capable of helping?”[/color] He raised the goblet in his hand and tapped on it, causing what remains of the green beverage inside to shake. [color=maroon]“This drink you gave us, it is powerful magic. Far beyond what I am capable of. If you have the power to produce such magic, yet you cannot win against this prince of yours, what hopes can I possibly have?”[/color][hr]