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. The ogre was the most monstrous thing
the Solamnic warrior had ever come across.
The knight, with his proud air and stiff, upright stature,
stood out in comparison to the slouchy, slovenly half-dozen
others. Most had the hang-dog expression of long-time
felons. Arryl took an interest in only two - a boy dressed in
motley, who obviously had no idea what was going to
happen to him, and a half-elf, whose face was that of a man
who knows he is doomed. Having studied the rest during
the short, bleak trip from his cell to this place, Arryl
guessed that most would not survive long enough to win
their freedom.
Arryl Tremaine glanced about and grimaced at the ex
terior of the arena, adorned with the benevolent visage of
the Kingpriest. Brother Gurim came immediately to mind.
BROTHER GURIM. The rat-faced cleric was
responsible for his being sentenced to this place, of that
Arryl was certain. A night in a dank prison cell had been
long enough for the Solamnic warrior to question the law
and authority by which he had been judged. Something was
amiss. It was too coincidental that the same man who had
spoken to the young knight only a day prior, and who had
overheard what Arryl was forced to admit may have been
injudicious remarks about Istar, should be one of the
inquisitors at his sudden, mad trial
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