Completed Storehouse Massacre

A storehouse near the Docks starts to show activity during a storm.

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

Storehouse Massacre

Postby Shimoje on May 4th, 2016, 3:15 am

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Night 82nd of Spring 516A.V.

Thunder ravaged about the city of Syliras. The daunting sounds awoke Shimoje, and many others of the city as rain could be heard pouring down upon the shelters of the city. Shimoje went out of the comforts of his apartment taking along his tools and pack as normal. He walked the streets as did many others of that were waken in the night. Particularly he was frustrated and didn’t know much of what to do, but he was curious of the nature of the storm. Given the way that the city was constructed the easiest and most comfortable way that he would be able to watch the storms was to head towards the docks.

Shimoje groaned a bit as thunder clashed throughout the city once again, and the loud bang seemed to rattle his head. He covered his ears in the process and as soon as it ended continued to walk once again towards the docks. During his walk to the docks a door of a building that Shimoje always seemed to pass suddenly slammed open and shut right before him as he walked by. The slamming at first startled Shimoje, and curious as he was Shimoje went to investigate the slamming.

The door was naturally shut and upon his approach the door creaked open ever so slightly. He was particularly intrigued as to of why the door would be acting as such. Grabbing ahold of the handle of the door he first inspected it. The handle was normally operational and seemed to turn freely. Next he looked at the hinges. Perhaps they were loose and the vibrations of the storm somehow kicked the door open? Just as he was kneeling down, holding onto the handle of the door for support and looking closely at the hinges, the handle of the door turned. It wasn’t from Shimoje’s own force and just as soon as the handle turned the door slammed shut once again.

Shimoje was utterly startled and fell back onto his butt. He sat there almost dazed and confused as to of what had just happened. Strangely enough a bloodcurdling scream was heard from inside the building just as another loud bang of thunder struck, it muffled portions of the scream. Shimoje’s face screwed with curiosity and was almost certain someone was in danger, he knew what he had heard. In his plight he got up and rushed to the door once again. He attempted to open the door, but it was locked.

Something had to happen that Shimoje didn’t see or notice. “Hello!” Shimoje yelled through a crack in the door. “Are you alright, is anyone in there?” Shimoje put his ear to the door, after only a few chimes the sound of the door unlocking was heard. He jumped back in fear that the door would slam open once again, and pulled out his daggers, preparing to encounter whatever had caused such an ear wrenching scream. He stood there for about 20 chimes, just waiting, listening to both the storm and anything from inside. Some onlookers would pass by which had the same idea as him to watch the storm by the docks. A lot of them gave him very strange looks and mumbles of ‘damned drunk’ was heard by more than a few. Though, Shimoje was almost frozen. A sudden chill went down his spine and snapped him out of it.

He was now entranced and went up towards the door and opened it, standing again peering inside to see nothing but a complete darkness. With an occasional glimmer of light from lightning and a passerby carrying a torch it would allow him to see into the building ever so slightly. It was perhaps larger than most apartments and there were several boxes of sorts with various materials he couldn’t make out. He wasn’t as much interested in those as he was a door towards the back of the room and stairs leading upwards. He wondered where the screams were coming from, whether from the doors or by the staircase.

Next thing you know some whimpering was heard from a distant corner by the staircase. Shimoje was curious and didn’t want to enter by himself, but now it seemed no one was in sight. Not too far away was a torch belonging to the city mounted upon an iron casing which held it. He noted before that some guards would place their torches and gather new ones from the walls during patrol at night. Shimoje walked over casually, checking to see if any patrols were around or were about to come his way, but once again the street seemed empty. He grabbed the torch and headed inside of the building.

Once he had stepped one foot into the building Shimoje felt very cold, despite the warmth of the torch, and the fire of the torch seemed to flow in the direction of the door. Which seemed very odd to him, even as he stood there motionless. If air flows into a building, how would a fire’s flame go towards the only open exit? “Hello?” he had said quietly.

A distant murmur was heard again from near the staircase. “Just kill us. Kill us both” the murmur had cried out. Shimoje froze once again and contemplated upon what he had just heard. The sound of lightning and thunder seemed to subside, and a mysterious noise was heard in the other direction. Shimoje turned to look and just as he turned the flame on the torch was snuffed out as if blowing out a candle. Shimoje eyes grew wide and he attempted to run towards the door when he heard something in the direction he had just heard the noise once again. “What is going on in here?” he asked once again. “That is it, I am leaving!” Shimoje yelled

Just as soon as Shimoje started to make his way back to the door he tripped over something in the darkness. It felt like whatever it was had wrapped around his leg. In a scrambling effort he went to feel what it was when grabbed ahold of some sort of rope. At this point it was loose and easily removed from his leg, but soon enough the only source of light he had, the open door, had once again been slammed shut.

Suddenly something very cold started to burn Shimoje by his neck but was later moved to his shirt. He screamed in agonizing pain as he was dragged across the room. He was in a state of panic and the pain he had experience and trauma of the rather loud scream caused him to be knocked unconscious.

His was still alive, but his body lifeless in his sleep while being dragged across the building towards the stairs in a slow manner.
Last edited by Shimoje on May 13th, 2016, 1:07 am, edited 1 time in total.
Shortly after departure of the Tipsy Wench, a deeply held secret started to show itself as Shimoje's mental stability started to become more clear. His hand will bear the mark of Lykata and glow with a symbol of Lormar.

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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Hwyn on May 6th, 2016, 2:33 pm

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Hwyn had always been a fairly light sleeper, a useful trait in his home of sunberth and not a skill easily forgotten so when the thunder and lightning decided too crash and rage throughout the night Hwyn found himself unable to rest no matter how he tried. Though among the sounds of crashing lightning and thunder Hwyn caught signs of the man who lived just down the hall from him leaving, or at least he thought it was.. Peaking out from his door he spotted Shimoje's back heading down the stairs. Where could he be going at this hour?

Pulling on a Tunic and breeches Hwyn took off after the man barely catching sight of the man as he left the building. Following the man was a pain as he was torn between announcing his presence or just following the man, after all it was rude to intrude on someones dealings, ruder still to stalk someone though. Either way Hwyn supposed he was in the wrong. Following Shimoje was not overtly difficult luckily as the lightning made the man easy to spot every now and again and the other sounds of the storm concealed his footsteps.

The direction they were following was not a new one for Hwyn, He and Shimoje had traveled this route before, It seemed that the man was heading to the docks. Though along the way Shimoje paused his attention seemingly caught by a building, the man approached the door and swiftly was knocked back. Hwyn couldn't hear anything over he storm but he was certain that what he was witnessing was unusual to say the least. Still watching not sure of what to do Hwyn witnessed Shimoje struggle with the door for a short time before finally seeming to find his way in.

Following after Hwyn himself made his way to the door which remained slightly ajar now, standing outside the door Hwyn Swallowed hard, Did he follow? He didn't particularly want to. But what if Shimoje needed help, his behavior had certainly been strange. While he was outside a screech came from within the building that made Hwyn jump almost a foot in the air. Tapping his feet back and forth trying to warm his blood and find some confidence Hwyn pulled the door open and cheeped inside looking about timidly.

He didn't see anyone inside, but the abysmal gloom could be concealing any manner of traps. Hwyn was practically shaking in his diminutive boots but he was already here, and he had a goal in mind. Stomping one foot and biting his lip Hwyn tried to distract himself from his immediate fear and search for signs of Shimoje.
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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Shimoje on May 6th, 2016, 2:39 pm

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Hwyn Arrives


A shadow loomed from inside the storehouse. The already dark rooms were fairly hard to see regardless, but now it was as if something was swallowing all forms of light from inside. A cold wind could be felt coming from a door above the staircase, and following the wind the grotesque smells of death and body odor.

Inside the storehouse one would not navigate so easily. Cases of boxes filled with varieties of different wares and shipments from an old trades deal seemed to be scattered about the room in no particular order.

Suddenly upon the arrival of Hwyn a very slow and quiet scratching noise could be heard from inside the door that was adjacent to the staircase, but still on this floor. The scratching noise was accompanied by the noises of water dripping every few seconds, as if the recent storm caused a leak.

The main door now remained completely open, as is whoever or whatever lurked inside invited people in to join the party. In the distance by the far staircase if someone listened close enough they could hear the very subtle cries of “Just kill us. Kill us both!” over and over again without stop. Should one approach the noise the sounds would immediately stop.

Speech Thoughts
Shortly after departure of the Tipsy Wench, a deeply held secret started to show itself as Shimoje's mental stability started to become more clear. His hand will bear the mark of Lykata and glow with a symbol of Lormar.

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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Aranta on May 7th, 2016, 10:40 pm

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Aranta had never been very fond of storms; they were incredibly dangerous to fly in, as one risked the chance of being struck by lightning with every wingstroke, and often times the storms would drive any and all prey into hiding, so there was rarely any reason to venture out into storms to begin with.

So why was this particular Zith out in the storm anyway?

Because he was claustrophobic.

Of course, he did not know that that was the word for the choked and pressured feeling he had felt, even inside his own apartment in the depths of Syliras, something which had never before posed a problem to him since Zith usually lived in caves with their families in colonies, but few colonies were larger than a family line or two, and Syliras... Syliras was enormous. Storms, it turned out, drove more than Zith and prey into hiding from its lashing winds and rains and crackling lightning and booming thunder; most other races were driven to seek shelter as well, and since most apartments were located where Aranta's was, the halls and rooms were all crowded. The sounds and smells were overwhelming to the Zith's more sensitive ears and nose, and eventually it all became too much, and he left, easily pushing his way through the throngs to the exit, emerging into the storm and lifting his wings as a makeshift raincloak; all of his things, except for a simple pair of worn pants, his belt, and the knife that he carried with him everywhere(even though he rarely needed another weapon; his teeth and claws were often enough to get the job, whatever it was, done), had been left behind in his apartment.

Resigned now, the Zith traveled through the streets of Syliras, not entirely certain where he was heading, but following the flow of what little traffic there was; eventually, he found himself in the area he recognized as being near the docks. Unsure of what had drawn his attention, the Zith paused, straining his hearing until he could pinpoint the source of the disruption of his thoughts.

Bang.

There. Aranta turned, beginning to weave his way through the large buildings as he followed the sound of a door slamming open and shut, and as he drew closer he could make out more noises coming from the same direction, though he could not determine what, exactly, they were. Something prickled the back of Aranta's neck, and without fully realizing it, the Zith dropped into a defensive stance, creeping closer to the building that was the source of the noise. It was a... a warehouse, Aranta thought the word was. As he drew closer, he could see another, very much smaller, figure enter the building. Curiosity fully aroused now, Aranta proceeded to follow. His night vision was normally excellent, but even he had trouble making out anything farther than a few feet into the building, a fact that only served to heighten his caution as he stepped over the threshold.

Once inside, Aranta found that he could hear almost nothing, save for the dripping of water through the roof of the building, and scratching coming from somewhere further inside. He could hear something that sounded like words, but with the rain still pounding the roof and outside walls and the other ambient noise, he could not make out the exact words.

The Zith could feel his hackles standing up as he stepped farther into the building, teeth bared and claws held ready to lash out. Something very wrong was going on here.
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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Shimoje on May 7th, 2016, 11:22 pm

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Aranta Arrives


Suddenly everything within the storehouse felt like it was shaking. This was no result from the thunder as it had quickly subsided into the night and the rain had stilled, almost as abruptly as it had started. Another victim had fell prey to the storehouse, and now the entities inside grew excited as no other.

Shadows loomed from no apparent light, and seemed to cross from one part of the building to the other as various tidbits, odds and ends, flew about almost hitting both Hwyn and Aranta. The commotion would surely cause them to either grumble or scream in fear, but nothing was heard except the ever louder screams coming from the top of the staircase.

The blood curdling screams would surely be heard even from outside of the storehouse. Cries of pain like no other, almost as if whatever was making the screams did so in the acts to stay alive. That was far from the case, though.

Up above an unknown entity had been re-enacting it’s more pleasurable desires of chaos and torture upon another unknown entity. The entities that were scuttling across the storehouse only added as a distraction almost in fit from the screams. Whatever was going on inside this storehouse was malicious in every nature, save from the subtle voice in the distance behind the staircase repeating “just kill us. Kill us both.” Over and over, now becoming louder.

Speech Thoughts
Shortly after departure of the Tipsy Wench, a deeply held secret started to show itself as Shimoje's mental stability started to become more clear. His hand will bear the mark of Lykata and glow with a symbol of Lormar.

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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Jade Laken on May 8th, 2016, 12:20 am

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Jade jerked up from her pallet looking around. The loud thunder outside was causing her to be nervous. Looking over to see Ferrin still out the woman stood up and slide on her pants and shoes. She grabbed her bow and quiver before putting on her coay. Pulling the hood over her head the woman walked out and made sure the door was locked behind her. Looking around Jade made her way through the crowd in the hallway. Finally said girl made it past the huge crowds and onto the street. Panting the woman looked around and saw that several people were walking towards what looked to be the docks.

She walked down the street looking around for anyone that she recognized. An open door caught her eye. Walking over Jade looked in from outside of the building. Hearing something from within the young girl slowly made her way towards the door. Ignoring the creepy feeling slowly crawling up her spine the blonde stopped at the stairs going into the door way.

"Hello?" She called and slowly took a few steps into the door. "Is there anyone there?"

The feeling got stronger causing her to stay half turned towards the door. Her first instinct was to run from the building. Hearing a dripping she slowly walked towards it while staying very nervous.
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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Shimoje on May 8th, 2016, 12:38 am

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Jade Arrives


Another body entered the storehouse. She managed to scramble her way through the building as various oddities flew above her head. Upon arriving and the base of the staircase the voice saying "Just kill us. Kill us both." stopped almost instantly. The screaming above still as loud as ever, but now a louder yell sounded it's beacon from the base of the stairwell. "No! Don't Disturb. We all die! Now!"

A sudden wave of air pushed through the bottom of the staircase and with an intense force pushed at Jade. She fell back a few feet before finally plummeting on her butt. The interaction would only be mildly painful, but more surprising than anything else.

Everyone in the storehouse currently would have surely noticed the new arrival and what had just occurred.

Speech Thoughts
Shortly after departure of the Tipsy Wench, a deeply held secret started to show itself as Shimoje's mental stability started to become more clear. His hand will bear the mark of Lykata and glow with a symbol of Lormar.

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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Ferrin Al'Mandrikan on May 8th, 2016, 3:56 am

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It was just one of those casual Syliras nights. Well, casual spring nights. The thunder clapping. The weird zigzagging lightning strikes high above over the shadowy sky. Whenever the bright blue white lights appear, the darkest parts of the city of Peace are showered with the same hues as the lighting strikes vibrated throughout Syliras. Ferrin was at the near end of his patrol, and he'd decided to go out and patrol the regions of Syliras that are not commonly patrold.

Ferrin was swathed in his usual. Well, his current usual attire. The leather armor with the wind oak engraved right in the middle of the breastplate. He didn't want to wear the metallic armor as it seemed unnecessary to him for patrols, wearing that heavy of a suit, during the warmest days and the hottest of night? It was nearly obsured to him. Who would want to go through that much of insufficient ethics, for a simple nonviolent patrol.

Ferrin held a shield though, in his left hand a torch that's lit in the other, just to make sure of where he's going. The Kenashian doubted that anyone would gang up on him this late of night, and that not too much locals would be out this late at night either. It was quite windy out, but that didn't bother Ferrin much at all. He was getting fairly tired as well, but he didn't let it show. In fact, to keep himself awake at times, he'd keep an eye out and focus on each intricate little detail of the building(s) that he'd walk by. Mainly to get a feel of this portion of the city. The flames of the torch flickered faintly as Ferrin reared around a corner.

The Kenashian figured that it was the playful winds of the night so he kept walking. All of a sudden, it was as if someone was trying to trick him or something of the like, because there was a door that slammed near viciously and Ferrin jumped, which made him drop the torch and the wooded material went out. There was a strike of lightning and then a low roll of thunder that echoed throughout the city. Ferrin unsheathed his blade and wrapped his hand tightly round the leather hilt in a comfortable position.

"Hello, who's there?"Asked Ferrin a bit cowrdly as he crept closer to the door. It slowly swung inched open in response, but then slammed shut again. Ferrin pulled on the handle, with his hand that wasn't holding the straps of the shield, for they were strapped to his arm. There was a slight mumble, and Ferrin could've sworn he heard a thump and a few mumbled words. The door slowly opened and invited Ferrin in, but as he stepped inside the door slammed on his rear and Ferrin was knocked down into his knees, he gripped his blade tightly with a sweaty hands. Everything was dark, dark and spooky as far as he can see. Even with his good eyesight, everything was just a blur of blackness. He spoke aloud, confidently. "Who's here? Come on out, we can talk about this." Said Ferrin in a more fatherly tone. Hoping the tone would make a difference.
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"With a heart of steel, I raise my blade in combat. The only thoughts I have in my mind is whether I'd return home to my family. I am a soldier, and will fight for love and peace. That is the way of being a Syliran Knight"-Ferrin.



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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Shimoje on May 8th, 2016, 4:41 am

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Ferrin Arrives

As the door slammed shut to the buildings last victim in the night and knocked him on his knees, his violent reaction of blade and shield was met by a swift snuff of the flame which he had carried in with him. The cold air brushed across the room violently and the hostile voice in the corner by the staircase subsided instantly after yelling “No, Don’t Disturb. We all die! Now!”

This all occurred as items of various shapes and sizes were being flung across the room, now aimed at the door to which just slammed shut very violently. Gripping his blade Ferrin would have felt almost a cold breath lingering above him as he would attempt to reason with whatever or whoever resided inside. Everyone; Hwyn, Ferrin, Aranta, Jade, and Shimoje were isolated from each-other in the darkness. Only Shimoje would reside in another room, unknown to all others except perhaps Hwyn who had stalked him to the storehouse in the first place.

The slight trickle sound of what could have been water was over-ran by the heart wrenching screams of something upstairs. Though, Jade would most likely feel something trickle across her forehead from the dripping above. It would be thick in substance, not too different from blood. In fact, it would be blood and the iron scent and near death smell would be overwhelming.

“You all die. Now!”
the figure had somewhat appeared in a misty form as screams of anguish ripped across the storeroom. It would leave most of everyone disoriented and a ringing noise within their ears. The scent of blood, the cold breeze, and the whipping of items across the room was nothing in comparison to what would happen next.

With a stern lash of energy all of the shadows across the room whipped towards the door to the storehouse and Ferrin. With a considerable amount of cold, almost near freezing, Ferrin would experience his body being violently dragged away rather rapidly towards the staircase, and then flung across the wall. That wasn’t the end to it though. Suddenly everything within the storehouse started to move, with the shadows dancing with each-other to take every crate, every object, and every box and slamming it against the door.

A stack of various items both heavy and light now lay stacked against the door clear up to the ceiling. A numerous of different screams, almost laughing at the group that would now be able to see each other seemed to disappear into the door by the staircase. The darkness of the storeroom seemed to subside just a bit, and now everyone inside would be able to see each other with some amount of effort as their eyes grow adjusted to the darkness.

Just when everything seemed calm a slight whimper from a child was heard from the far end of the staircase. “Are they gone?” it said calmly.

Speech Thoughts
Shortly after departure of the Tipsy Wench, a deeply held secret started to show itself as Shimoje's mental stability started to become more clear. His hand will bear the mark of Lykata and glow with a symbol of Lormar.

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Storehouse Massacre

Postby Shimoje on May 8th, 2016, 5:14 am

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Night 82nd of Spring 516A.V.

Dampness. Unbridled cold, and the ear wrenching screams. Shimoje lay unconscious for the duration of what felt like bells, but no relief was felt. Only soreness, as Shimoje attempted to get up, but something prevented him. “Help!” he said, but his voice was crackly and very soft. He couldn’t even yell. In an attempt to feel his surroundings the thickness of a nasty liquid seeped all over his body, and a collection of various, harder substance like, objects got in his way.

He grasped onto one not too far from himself and was shocked. Whatever it was had a slimy feel to it, and fur soaked in the substance. He recognized the feel, and then instantly started to gag and throw up next to him.

Shimoje lay on the cold ground with a number of dead animals torn apart on-top of him. Every bleeding carcass was just nauseating as the one he grabbed, and the stench was almost unbearable. Perhaps whatever did this thought he was dead and put him the pile with the rest of the dead animals. Whatever the case, Shimoje now aware of his situation tried to remain calm and quiet.

Scuttling his way out of the pile of dead bodies Shimoje could barely see his hands in front of him. His exasperated breath from fear made it very hard to breath and panic soon rolled into every one of his veins. A large amount of ruckus and screams were heard below him. He tried to knock on the floor below him as to aware whatever was going on below him that he was there and still alive. There was no such answer. “Stupid, I can barely hear myself think!” Shimoje thought to himself.

Feeling his body to make sure everything was there, Shimoje noticed that his pack was missing. Most likely it was lost down in the storeroom by the staircase when he was dragged up it, but he didn’t even know that he was dragged up the stairs. Whatever the case Shimoje was just thankful that he had his tools and daggers on him still.

Shimoje stood up and attempted to walk around, feeling what was in front of him with his feet. Step after step seemed to lead him across a dead body of some sort. “What the petch is going on!” He exclaimed, with his crackly voice seeping through the screams. Suddenly a brush of cold air darted across the room. Shimoje’s only reaction was to say but one word. “death.” It certainly felt like death itself was out to get him, but not such a thing would bless Shimoje with that relief.

“Yes. Death. All death. No life.”
Said the shadow before him turning into a brighter mist. The shadow seemed to have a womanly figure. “All death, fire. Not here. Elsewhere.” It said.

This figure seemed to have a different feel to it than the others. “no escape. Death. People below. Death.” The figure uttered out almost crying between words in a harsh womanly tone. Her weeps made Shimoje almost feel sorry for this ghost. It was certain now. Ghosts haunted where he was, and they were not happy. Shimoje heard tales of ghosts when he was a kid, but nothing like this.

“Fire, what fire?”
Shimoje asked the figure. “Fire. Death. We all faced after fire. No face after fire. No body.” It had said rather ominously. “Spiritist. I was. Death after. Nothing.” She seemed to cry out. Her words were very fragmented, as if she had to think about each one and something prevented her from openly talking.

“Spiritist? You mean?” Shimoje couldn’t conceive the latter. Was this woman really a spiritist? “Murders. Other place. Now here. Death.” It had replied back before vanishing in an agonizing scream.

Shimoje had no idea what to make of what had just happened, but in his bewildered state he couldn’t do anything. In his solemn defeat and his utterly torn apart emotional state he fell to his knees defeated.
Shortly after departure of the Tipsy Wench, a deeply held secret started to show itself as Shimoje's mental stability started to become more clear. His hand will bear the mark of Lykata and glow with a symbol of Lormar.

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