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Telryn
"Only time will be able to tell whether my worries shall come true. Torture has been known to cause psychological scars that no magic or healing can ever heal."
At Nivram’s words, Telryn couldn’t help but grimace. Torture was low. Fighting to Telryn wasn’t distant, and to him was acceptable. One-on-one, fair, that was fine. But chaining someone up to cause them pain, without them being able to do anything? Was anything worse?
“Those bastards are dealt with now. I’m afraid ‘revenge’ won’t be yours, but as they rot as corpses you can still live. I know which one I’d rather be. And I hope that if any psychological scars do appear, you can find a way to-”
He was cut short by the activity of the priestess’.
“Come, we must leave. It would appear that stars have fallen from the sky; a grave omen, but a troublemaker has stirred up the crowd. There is rioting outside and the prisoners have escaped. There will be fighting in the streets and this is the first place they shall strike now the temple is gone. Unless order is restored… I worry for these people.”
As she sped out of the room, Telryn started to move. Or rather, roll off the bed he was on, landing on the floor face down, one hand holding his torso up. Struggling to his feet, he grunted “We gotta move. It’s gonna get nasty.”
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