D&D Next: Lords of Waterdeep?

The Last Hours of the First Night

Salim's Final Stand

Supreme glorious master has won great glory for his… our house through honorable gambling combat. His star shines highest today and he surely would have vindicated himself against all the execrable rumors that have proliferated, surely he would have… had that evil wizard not ruined everything by saving my soul…

I cannot even look at that thing…..

I can feel it wanting me… itsterrifyingeyesfollowmeeverywhere – icanfeelitintheotherrooms – O GODS! Corellon! What am I doing he- The master of transcendent beauty tells me to come; he is arguing again with that nasty, evil wizard with the silver eyes.

When the gnoll barks out its foetid, primitive language and I can feel its hot breath on my skin, it comes with the smell of a dog eating its own refuse. Its dull, underdeveloped eyes spark with hunger as it looks at me, it reminds me of the Thing That I Must Not Think About, The Thing in the room of ignorant human kings – wait, I am ignorant. Of the accursed race, our minds thickened with pollution, but I am given hope, for I walk in the shadow of the virtuous, preeminent master, prince of Al-Qadim, first among singers of the maqam. Where is the master? The gnolls come for me and in my mind I can still hear that thing’s sonorous voice trying to pull me to it.

The evil wizard’s midnight blue-tinged hue and shimmering eyes like clouds in the sun remind me of the bedeviled. It is not good that he speaks so to the incomparable master, for he is unclean…

They have torn the beauty from my perfect master, my towering sovereign. An evil clone sent him to some tainted sideways dimension where they rupture purity, but I have saved him. This place is hateful… a lair of black creatures breeding like insects, I would see them wiped from Toril and the spawn of darkness that inhabit this place burned down to the bone… but I cannot do this? I am lowly, of a squalid race and besmirched birth… am I of a rank filled with bugbears and gnolls?

Another thing of darkness skulks in a corner like a filthy orcroach, waiting to be conquered by the surpassing angelic grace of my matchless master. An ancient wizard has traded life for ceaseless existence and its skull watches us. Immaculate Master has commanded, so I shall let none pass, even though the thing’s speech rankles in my mind and all of natural Toril cries out against it’s existence.

I will take his poor, ancient, ravaged frame to the healers. His rheumy eyes smile at the phoenix and the thousand new wrinkles pull up in a smile. How can life be so short, that black magic has stricken him so? It is said that when humans wake, their midnight thoughts fade like dew in the sunlight…

-From the mind of Rakim

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BloodyMalth

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