[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]
[@VitaVitaAR][@VahkiDane]

The search through the halls of the fortress was slow going, the Boars having disseminated their number in sparse quantities through the ranks of good and Goddess-fearing king's men. As the unlikely pair marched down the spartan corridors (at some point peeling off the main cohort for better coverage of the area, already well aware of the brand they sought), they'd turned up a few of the saboteurs' corpses here and there, but little in the way of conclusive evidence— and, naturally, no shards of entropy made manifest. 

Orodunn's was a savage tale, but it was no stranger to the ears of those that clamored for Romance and Chivalry as boys. He had no scholarly breadth of interpretation to work his way through the myth as it still lived, and truthfully hadn't read the text firsthand— but he knew enough that the revelation of this Shard being that of Angoron had flipped the game on its head. That blade was so cursed it ruined countrysides— little wonder they'd gone mad to a man here.

He was tight-lipped as he rifled through the surcoat of one such mercenary, hoping to dig up answers, at least. Sir Sergio, not far off, had done much the same. A blessing they'd both gone all but nose-blind to bloodshed long before they'd found their way here— Gerard half believed they risked any missives uncovered to run the risk of being too mangled and stained to make anything out.

[color=goldenrod]"You feel anything? So far I don't."[/color]

Certainly, an oncoming rush of fury would be a warning sign.