Storyboards: Vilandra

Joining the Merchants | Anger | A gift and a goodbye | Journey beginnings | Thoughts | A wagonneer, a warrior, a merchant...what else? | Closer | Drunk | Visions of the truth | Broken

Joining the Merchants
The tavern was smoky and filled with the delirious laughter of Nadrak men. A dark shadow slipped inside and seated himself on a rickety chair at the back. A plump Nadrak waitress slammed a keg of ale in front of him, spilling a bit over the side. She swished away, just as the lights dimmed further and the men started cackling with glee and beating their glasses on their tables.
A young woman stepped out from the shadows, cloaked in black. She walked gracefully to the centre of the bar, all eyes watching her every move. Slowly the cloak slipped away, revealing her sensuous body. The tavern erupted with shouting and laughing but she surveyed and silenced them with a sharp gaze.
She clapped her hands over her head and slowly started dancing. Her pale lavender dress shimmered, revealing more than before with every move of her body. The men laughed uncontrollably, beating their hands on the tables keeping up with the beat. She swayed and moved, her amethyst eyes glinting in the pale light. Weaving her way between the tables, she tempted every man in the room but yet she nicked and cut those awry hands that got in her way, her studded dagger in her hand like a flash. The shadow at the back could feel himself sweating; he reached for the keg of ale and took a sip to calm himself.
The dancer approached the back of the tavern, her blue-black hair shone even in the dim light. She smiled a venomous smile and pushed away the leering faces. The shadow averted his eyes and waited until she was back at the centre. With a last clap she donned her cloak again, much to the loud groans of despair and strutted back into the shadows.
The tavern retired to its usual noise again. The shadow rose and walked towards the counter to pay.
"Is the dancer for sale?" He heard a drunken Thull ask the bartender who nodded slowly and raised his gaze toward a seedy Nadrak sitting drunk in a corner. The big Thull lumbered towards him and murmured something and sat down. The Nadrak nodded and called to a waitress and whispered something in her ear and then spanked her sharply. She glared at him but disappeared inside.
A few minutes later the dancer appeared, now wearing a tight leather dress outlining her every curve and fitting all her daggers.
"What is it Borlak?" She asked curtly, swinging herself down onto the chair revealing a large portion of her shapely leg.
"This Mister Merthel here wishes to purchase you, my sweet." She looked at the Thull and snorted derisively.
"It'll be seven hundred gold pieces, fat boy, think you can afford that?"
"I'll give you hundred, nothing more." He declared slowly. The dancer laughed, and her deep purple eyes seemed to glimmer with excitement as she began bargaining. The shadow stood watching closely as she haggled with the Thull beating his price up. The Nadrak owner sat speechlessly, watching them argue, he knew that if he interfered he would have to severely pay. The shadow watched intently at the dancer's swiftness and ease with which she picked up on her opponent's weaknesses. Nodding slightly to himself, he walked over to their table and lifted out a heavy pouch from his pocket and placed it down.
"Seven hundred gold coins." He said softly. Then turning his gaze to the surprised girl he said, "Come along then, your mine now." The dancer arose, a little taken aback but walked up to the bar and fetched her collar and chain. The stranger frowned slightly but then walked out of the stuffy tavern, followed swiftly by the Nadrak dancer. Once outside he turned to her.
"What's your name?"
"Vilandra," she replied curtly and then handed him the metal collar.
He shook his head and pushed it away. "I didn't buy you to be my slave. You are free." She furrowed her brow like the idea was unknown to her. "I watched you inside there. My name is Czrel, Merchant Czrel. I wanted to know if you would join me and my friends. We could use your talent and ability." The girl looked bewildered and then nodded slowly.
"All right," she said surely.
"Then welcome to the Merchants, Vilandra.”

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Anger
Vilandra stormed out of the Merchant clan hall, her amethyst eyes flashing. The anger inside her was overflowing and she clenched her fists to control it. I need to work, to get my mind off this, she thought. She strutted into the Boktor Market Square, eyeing the crowd and trying to blend in with it but this was difficult for she was donned in her usual Nadrak leather that seemed to attract and turn many heads in her direction. Feeling even more disgusted at the leering looks she was attracting she decided to ignore them and get down to some business.
It had been her responsibility to undertake the transport of large wagons of fur to the annual Sendar Fair that was going to be held soon. She started making her way quickly to the fur trader Zelreg, who received large supplies of fur from the trappers he had contacts with in Gar Og Nadrak. Vilandra knew him for he used to take fur from her old master but he had never seen the merchant side of her. Underestimating her to be just another silly Nadrak woman, he had started his bid very high hoping to make large profits in the process but she had shrewdly beaten down his price and showed him her skill in bargaining.
Now all that was left was to sign a few papers of agreement, which would be burnt right after anyway. She entered the little fur shop by the corner and greeted Zelreg curtly. He quickly handed over the papers to her and she read them diligently. The mysteries you can hide in fine print, she thought. Something caught her eye by the window and she looked up to see Maldrek face peering in. She blinked. No, it was just some other Drasnian looking in. She shook her head and cursed herself for reminding her of him. Maldrek.
His name itself made her feel anger. Him and his little compliments and flippant words, always trying to impress her and make her like him. Her nostrils flared angrily. If he wasn't a trusted friend of Czrel she would just cut his throat one day. She had come close today when he had returned from Melcene and come to greet her, but had stopped herself in the last minute and walked out. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? She thought.
Signing the papers quickly, she bid good bye and left, returning back to her room in the Clan Hall. She sank into her little bunk, unnaturally tired. Then she noticed it, something was placed on her desk. Something small and white. She rose and walked over to examine it, her eyes burning with curiosity.

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A gift and a goodbye
Vilandra picked up the tiny ivory figurine in her hand and looked at it curiously. Talented fingers had carefully etched and carved a beautiful elephant from the block of ivory. The tiny details, up to the finely shaped large ears to the creases of skin on the elephant's legs, were intricately depicted. Vilandra marveled at the beauty of the creation and blinked at the thought of what it was doing here.
"Gandahar," she mused. "This kind of work usually originates from there..." She smiled slightly at the kind thought the person had for giving this to her and slid the idol into a blue embroidered pouch that contained things that were the most precious to her.
She then relieved herself of most of her daggers, placing them in a line inside her drawer but keeping a few just for emergencies. Maldrek's face flashed before her eyes and she blinked it away grimly. She didn't know what aversion she had towards him and what its cause was but she hoped that her trip away to Sendar would cure her of this inexplicable hatred. Her forthcoming trip reminded her that she still needed to speak with Reidia, informing her about the details of her journey and how long she would be absent. As Czrel was unwell, she would have to report to Reidia about this.
Vilandra quite liked her. She was a typical Drasnian and treated her with smiles whenever she met her. Vilandra was already headed out the door before she realized that Reidia was away somewhere, journeying with Ordici. She sighed in dismay and reluctantly decided that she should inform Maldrek about it instead. Pouting, she made her way to the main hall and headed towards his room.
But as luck had it, she ran into him coming from outside. He flashed her a smile.
"Hi," he said.
"Hello," she replied shortly. "Can I have a word with you?" He looked a bit startled, perhaps because she'd never asked to speak with him privately but then regained his composure quickly and nodded.
He led her to his office and when she was seated shut the door.
"What's up?" He said casually.
"I've been carrying on a trade of furs between here and Gar Og Nadrak and I've decided that I'm going to extend this and take part in the annual Sendar fair. I've got a good supply of wagons ready and I plan to make the trip there along with them." She cleared her throat. "I'll be leaving tomorrow for it'll take us a good three weeks to make it to Sendar and then we'll have plenty of time to set up in the week that is remaining." Vilandra noticed a certain glint in Maldrek's eyes but ignored it. "I should be back in about two months if things go well. I'll be in touch so I'll provide all the information about how it's going. I just thought I'd inform you since Czrel's sick and Reidia's away." She stressed on the last sentence, making sure he understood why she was doing this. "Well, that's about it. I'll see you soon then." She rose and let herself out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Maldrek smiled.

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Journey Beginnings
Vilandra approached the wagon camp as the sun emitted its first glow over the frosty land of Boktor. Her eyes still slightly red from the early awakening, she pulled her fur-lined cloak around herself tighter and scoured the campsite for Zelreg, the fur merchant. Spotting him issuing some orders to the now fur filled wagons, she set off towards him, lugging her large brown bag along with her. Zelreg greeted her with his usual curt nod and went back to looking furiously through his paper work.
“Is everything ready to go?" Vilandra asked in a business-like fashion. Zelreg nodded and then pointed to a wagon a few feet away being fervently cleaned by a man.
"That one is for you to travel in." He whistled sharply and the man looked up and walked up to meet them. He was drowning in clothing, covered entirely by layers of it. On his face he had wrapped a piece of cloth like a mask which exposed only his eyes. Dark, obsidian eyes, familiar eyes. Vilandra blinked, trying to place them in her mind but Zelreg distracted her by continuing, "Kavell here will be your wagon master. He's pretty reliable." Zelreg thumped him on the back. "Show the lady where to keep her bag," he said to Kavell.
Kavell looked at her again, his eyes penetrating and then motioned her to follow. Vilandra did diligently and he reached over to take the bag from her but she shook her head, making it clear that she was capable of carrying her own. It seemed like Kavell was smiling at this but she couldn't tell, he was crinkling his eyes but perhaps it was just the sun. She heaved her bag into the open back of the wagon when they had reached it and then climbed in her self. There were two small bunks by the sides of the wagon, and by the looks of it she could tell that the ride was not going to be comfortable.
"So we'll be leaving in half an hour?" She said to Kavell, who seemed to be standing and staring at her awkwardly. He looked away, "Yeah, as soon as the last supplies from the warehouse arrives we'll be off." He seemed to have a curious lisp to his speech, pronouncing his words strangely. Vilandra nodded and leaned against the wooden wall, Kavell disappeared for a while and when he reappeared it was time to go. Hitching the horse to the wagon, he took the reins and started at a canter. Vilandra was already regretting it for in about half an hour she was sure her backside would be purple.
"Hopefully the Great Northern Road will be smoother," she muttered to herself. Kavell laughed at that, "You can't count on that," He lisped and then turned to look at her. "Tolnedrans are famous for their highways but not for keeping them that smooth." Vilandra frowned. Unusually, his last sentence was spoken normally, without a hint of a lisp. Funny, she thought. Kavell's eyes clouded slightly and he looked away and back at the road.
She shrugged and then reached over for her bag and took out her blue pouch. Slipping out the ivory elephant she had received she pondered over where it could have come from again. Tracing the intricate lines she closed her eyes, feeling the cool white stone. It had a certain calming feeling on her and in minutes she was fast asleep.

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Thoughts
Vilandra looked out at all the caravans surrounding her, little bonfires dotting the scenery. She frowned slightly, still feeling a slight pain in the deep cut on her forearm. Rubbing it slowly, she turned, her head clouded with thoughts. She was still quite shocked with the ambush they had faced, it wasn't that she wasn't used to fighting but Kavell...she had never expected him to be such a skilled fighter. In fact, he had saved her life. And the last thief...there was something strange about the way Kavell fought him...something that reminded her of how someone else had used that same tactic...and that someone else was Maldrek.
Vilandra shook her head, trying to dispel such suspicions. How could it possibly be? Perhaps they had similar training...she thought. And he definitely didn't show any signs of knowing what her comment about Gandahar was about. Her suspicions about the figurine were towards Maldrek, and he couldn't be Kavell...no.
Vilandra walked back to the bonfire and sat down beside it, warming her hands. She peered through the flames at Kavell, his hooded face crouched over intently at the wound on his leg. He was trying in vain to tie a bandage around it for somehow the ends would slip and the knots wouldn't tie.
Vilandra rose from her place and walked over to him. He looked up, his black eyes flashing with reflected light. She sat down beside him silently and took the ends of the bandage from his hands. Neatly and briskly she brought them together and made a firm knot. Patting his wound softly she looked up at him. He grunted slightly in pain but nodded his head.
"Thank you," she whispered. He looked her in the eye, his piercing gaze as if penetrating her soul.
"For what?"
"For saving me." She said simply. He touched her hand lightly and nodded.
Vilandra felt a shiver run through her. A shiver of what? She thought. But it wasn't fear or anger or any other feeling she related with. It was something new...something unusual. Frowning slightly, she rose quickly and turned away. "I think I'll have a bath. There's a spring by the trees there and I need to get this stench off me. Can you make sure no one wanders?" She didn't turn to see him nod, but instead picked up a few clothes and hurried away.

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A wagonneer, a warrior, a merchant...what else?
The bustling view of the Sendarian fair caught Vilandra's eyes as she and Kavell drew into the large fairground. The entire place was milling with people from all over the West. Big burly Chereks, sly Drasnians, grey cloaked Rivans and tall loping Algars. Even some Arends were amidst the crowd, setting up tents and displaying their wares. The hurried activity was making Vilandra's blood flow quicker and faster, the excitement was making her tingle all over. Her merchant instincts were at their sharpest now and she couldn't help but smile with impatience as she longed to start bargaining. She looked over at Kavell, his hooded face surveying the crowd and noticed curiously that he had a similar twinkle in his eye.
She slipped off the wagon when it had come to a stop and then walked, with a feeble attempt to feign defiance, towards the man in charge of allotting sites on the ground to the various merchants.
"Evening," she said shortly. She wanted to come across as someone that should not be messed with, otherwise being a woman as she was, she was always seriously underestimated. The man in charge was seated in a chair, bending over a list on a clipboard. He looked up on hearing her voice and Vilandra winced inwardly. He was a Cherek, and the Cherek had a firm belief that women belonged in the kitchen. A large smirk spread across the man's face as he looked at her and unashamedly eyed her up and down. Vilandra could feel her blood boiling but controlled her anger by clenching her fists.
"I'm here with a supply of furs. I would like a suitable location, preferably one which can fit five tents." She said, her voice bordering on the edge of civility. The Cherek started laughing.
"Really, missy?" He said, cockily. Vilandra's nostrils began to flare, a sure sign of danger for a person who knew her.
"Look he-," she began but was cut off by a voice behind her.
"Five tent space at the east end. And I won't pay more than ten gold pieces for it." Vilandra turned around but she knew who it was before she even had. The characteristic lisp was a dead giveaway of Kavell's voice. The Cherek looked at him and frowned.
"I can give it to you for nothing less that fifty." Kavell laughed. And before her very own eyes, Vilandra watched him begin to bargain with the Cherek, beating him hollow at his own game. Vilandra blinked. This side of Kavell was unexpected, and somehow vaguely familiar.
Czrel had once said that if you ever wanted to get something cheap, take Maldrek with you, he'll get it for you for free. Somehow that seemed to ring true for Kavell too. Vilandra shook her head, why was she always comparing him to Maldrek? There were so many things she didn't know about Kavell or his nature, how could she assume that a wagoneer was just that and nothing else? But still, she furrowed her brow, there was something about the way he was arguing, something about how he suddenly leapt out of his shell and began expressing himself, there was something strange in all of it.
Kavell triumphantly deposited five gold pieces on the Cherek's table who had a sullen look on his face. Kavell on the other hand was positively beaming.
"Shall we go?" He looked at her and lisped. Slightly disconcerted, she nodded and followed him.
"I-I didn't know you could do that." She said finally. He looked at her like a child who had just been caught stealing jam. His eyes clouded up a bit but then he smiled.
"Neither did I." Somehow Vilandra found that hard to believe.

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Closer
Vilandra sat down by the tent, and looked up at the silent moon that was gazing down on them. Today had been confusing. Confusing and torturing. It had been years since she had actually sat down and thought about who she was and what she was doing. Ever since she had been picked up from the streets, she had just accepted life as it came, not thinking about whether it was good or bad. But somehow today, she found herself thinking of the past, and shedding tears over it that had never been cried before. Her silent and closed attitude was disappearing, and she had begun to feel again.
"What's wrong, Vilandra?" Kavell looked at her concernedly. It was the first time he had said her name. She liked the sound of it when he said it.
"I-," she began, but her voice was choked. She took a deep breath. "Have you ever felt like your past is all coming crashing down on you?" She sighed and looked at the sky again. "There's a group of dancers from Nadrak on the far end of the camp. I was watching them, the way they danced, the way the men watched them. It was like watching a memory. A cold, hard memory. I never chose that life. Who would want to survive on straight nights in a bar full of drunkards leering at your body, trying to feel you up whenever you move. And who would want to dance for such bastards." Vilandra spat.
Kavell looked at her, sympathy reflecting in his eyes. "I guess I learnt to survive, I learnt to fight with these." She slipped out a dagger from the top of her boot, spun it and inserted it back in. She sighed again. "But I didn't want that either. I didn't want to turn into a warrior." Tears were sliding down her face now. "I know I sound confused, complicated, but I guess all I wanted was a normal life. A life with a happy family, and parents who loved me. Not filthy Nadrak men who bought and sold me, not the smell of spilt beer, not the transparent purple silk dress that lies in my suitcase. If I could erase all that from my past I would, but..."
Kavell drew her towards him and turned her so that she faced him. "Look at me," he lisped. "You are what you are today because of what happened. And take it from me, everyone's proud of what you have become." He pushed her sinking chin up and held it there. "You're strong, you're brave and above all that you're compassionate." Vilandra looked into his obsidian eyes, and was surprised to see that they actually seemed to care for her. Unknowingly, she felt her self move closer to him, and she saw that he was too, his lips reaching for hers.
"Mistress Vilandra?"
Vilandra looked away when she heard her name, the moment was ruined. It was one of her men who had broken it. "The last of the wagons have arrived." He said. She nodded in reply and looked at Kavell.
"I'll go help them unload." He said. There was something else in his voice that she couldn't figure out. The two men walked away, disappearing into the darkness leaving Vilandra behind in her thoughts.

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Drunk
Vilandra woke up and pushed the warm fur coat away, her eyes still feeling drowsy from her unplanned nap. Rubbing them to invoke some energy, she rose and stretched lazily. Curiously, she could hear the sound of rhythmic clapping coming from outside. Intrigued, she got up and pushed open her tent flap and peered outside. It was dusk, and the stars were visible in the purpling sky, out by the end of the ground, Vilandra could see a crowd of men circled around a fire clapping their hands to a beat. Vilandra narrowed her eyes, the scene looked more than just familiar but she had to take a closer look to be sure. She stalked forward towards the noise and pursed her lips.
Just as I suspected, she thought. The Nadraks are displaying their dancing abilities and the men just can't help watching. Vilandra shook her head and turned to leave when a familiar face caught her eye. There were three dancers circling the fire, enticing the men, and one of the men, obviously drunk with ale, had been pulled forward by a dancer in flashing red. There was no mistaking who the drunken man was. Vilandra could make out his dark eyes and covered face at any distance. Kavell.
Anger seemed to surge through her blood and she was seething as she marched back to her tent. I may loathe my past but I'm still the best dancer that ever lived, she thought angrily as she rummaged through her suitcase. For a moment she stopped to think, what was in Kavell that made her go mad with jealousy? Like today afternoon when she had seen him with Fereia, she couldn't stand him paying attention to anyone else. Perhaps, he was one of the only few people who touched her heart, who looked beyond her looks and saw her real true self. That was why she despised Maldrek, for he looked at her with nothing but lust in his eyes. He never did see her for what she was...but Kavell was different.
Vilandra quickly slipped into her sheer purple dress and smiled to see that it still fit. Pulling a black robe about herself, she stepped out and walked silently to the crowd. Pushing through the men who were too busy to notice her, she walked to the centre and turned around swiftly. Fixing her gaze on Kavell, she slipped her robe off and began to dance. The other dancers looked at her haughtily but she ignored them. Kavell was looking at her with a weird look in his eyes. His eyes still looked drunk but he walked forward and picked up her robe from the ground and covered her with it.
"There's no need for that." She hardly understood him with the lisp and the slur. Vilandra felt surprise jolt through her body and then she smiled with happiness. No one had ever said that to her before and hearing that meant much more than she had ever thought it would. "Go back now, you don't belong here." He patted her lightly on the back and pushed her gently.
Vilandra frowned. I don't belong here? she thought irritably. He was too drunk for her to figure out what he was saying. Vilandra walked to the barrel where the ale was being poured from and filled up her own mug. She took a deep swig and breathed deeply, allowing the alcohol to wash away her confusion, her bewilderment, and finally, her thoughts of Kavell. She was going to get very drunk tonight.

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Visions of the truth
Vilandra watched as the raindrops splashed on the muddy road trailing on behind her, causing large puddles of dirt and dust. The wagon in which she was seated in, shuddered as it rattled on, the wooden seat sore against her behind. Vilandra sighed and continued to stare out into the rain but her thoughts overcame her and clouded her vision...
Vilandra frowned as she watched Kavell wear his clothes and run out quickly. Pulling her robe over herself, she ran a hand through her wealth of blue black hair, her thoughts confused. Her hand caught in her hair, some strands had snagged on to something she was wearing. Vilandra extricated it carefully and looked at the flashing amethyst that adorned her finger. For a moment her memory failed her, and she floundered in a sea of fog that was darkening the images of last night.
She remembered the dance, the fire, the ale...and then suddenly she remembered standing under the stars, someone was holding her hand, she could hear her own laughter as she looked up at the person's arm she was resting herself on. Vilandra blinked at the ring on her finger, trying to draw back more memories. She knew they had been married, and her heart leapt with joy as she thought about it for she had finally come clean with her feelings for Kavell. Never before had she met anyone who had looked at her the way he had.
Vilandra sighed, she couldn't remember anything more. The hangover and the headache were like anvils on her head. Vilandra rose from her bed and poured herself a cup of hot tea from the kettle. She settled down and sipped, trying to clear her mind. She remembered the ring, he had it and had slipped it out of some inner pocket. She remembered laughing and clapping in delight when she saw it. Vilandra cringed as she recalled that reaction now. The tent flap opened just then and Kavell entered again. He was sweating, and his eyes looked worried and gaunt.
"Vil...I...," He began. Vilandra looked at him curiously, "What's the matter Kavell?" She stood up and walked over to him and placed her hand on his arm. He shifted slightly, uneasy under her touch and Vilandra frowned at this. She looked into his eyes again, they seemed troubled, and at the same time there was a lingering fear. Vilandra narrowed her eyes, and then slowly reached up and began to untie the mask around his face. Kavell closed his eyes, as if he was afraid to see what she was going to say. The last wrapping fell away and Vilandra gasped in amazement. Anger took a split second to ignite flames through her body.
"Maldrek," she whispered.

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Broken
The wagon rode over a bump on the road, sending sprays of water up in the air, and jerking Vilandra out of her reverie. She sighed and wiped away the tears that had slipped down her face silently. Her mind was a home of chaos and confusion, Kavell was Maldrek...Maldrek was Kavell...she couldn't get over it. Closing her eyes, she reminisced about the past again.

Vilandra's eyes flashed angrily, but at the same time a sense of confusion washed over her. "M-Maldrek?" She whispered again, a note of disbelief in her voice. He closed his eyes, as if trying to shut out her voice but then finally sighed and opened them, looking her full in the face. His dark eyes seemed to be filled with pain and regret, and seeing them ignited Vilandra's anger even further. Those eyes...those familiar eyes were Maldrek's! Her mind shrieked. Shaken and confused, she took a step back away from him. "Vilandra," he began, but she cut him off. "Don't say my name. You have no right...you...you..." she faltered, and her hands began to shake. Torak! She had married him, she had married him! Her thoughts collided in an uncontrollable frenzy. She held onto the handle of the chair to support herself, the shock was making her lose focus.

"Vil, just listen to me," Maldrek pleaded again. "I wanted to tell you, right from the beginning. But...but I couldn't. If I had you would have never...we would have not..."
Vilandra's heart ached, the man she loved with her heart and soul, was actually the man she hated with all her might. "You tricked me," she lashed out. "I didn't fall in love with you. I fell in love with a non-existential Kavell," tears were pricking her eyes now, threatening to flow. "No! I didn't mean that. Kavell and I are the same, believe me, Vil." Maldrek said again, his voice breaking. "Don't call me that!" Vilandra cried. "This marriage, this relationship, this...everything we had, was just a lie!" Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks as she pulled the amethyst ring off her finger and flung it at Maldrek. "I never want to set sight on you again." She said coldly and walked out of the tent, leaving a desolate Maldrek behind.

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