Subject: Memories of a Band
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Posted on: 2015-02-05 22:36:00 UTC

Thanasius grabbed his forehead. “I hate politics,” he mumbled to himself, then straightened. “Och, time to cut the knot.” He smiled – a crooked affair that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I know the Marizu are out there.”
The monk lifted his hand, letting the heavy sleeve of his robes fall down and reveal a bony arm. Roughly halfway between the elbow and the hand the pale flesh was covered in scar tissue. “This would remind me, if I would forget. My friends' pain would. The broken shards of my axe would.”
He looked back toward Skypcht. “Those people would; they have suffered many a raid.” He sighed like an old man many years his senior would. “I would never dream about doing anything that would strengthen the Marizu. Have I considered that alliance? Yes, I'd be a liar if I'd have said otherwise. Would have I acted on my own? Yechnagoth, no. I might dislike visitors” – a brief glare – “but despite what you might think, I'm not dense. I know the rules as well as the next man. Though, frankly, there is much to gain from that alliance and little to lose. Have you ever seen a Ydyffan warrior-poet in battle? I have, and they are magnificent.”
A wistful look crossed Thanasius' face. “I remember the King's standard flying proud over the advance of the Ciforrae, signifying that none may stand in their way and live to tell the tale.”

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