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.
Marble masks lined the arena walls, each visage
gazing down in sculpted tenderness upon the monarch's
spiritual children when they entered on the days of the
Games. Through the open gateway Arryl could see the
faces that adorned the inside of the arena. Probably the
countenance of each succeeding monarch replaced that of
his predecessor. Not at all to Arryl's surprise, he saw very
little tribute to Paladine.
Once again, Tremaine wondered whether Istar,
stronghold of Paladine, had forgotten exactly who it was its
citizens were supposed to worship.
"You there!" The dwarf walked up to him. For one of
the hill folk, Arack was surprisingly lean, like a small cat.
Knowing the strength of Arack's kind, Arryl wondered if he
could take the dwarf in combat. One did not gain authority
in an arena without some prowess. "Which are you?"
"I am Arryl Tremaine."
"The knight." The dwarf looked him over, pausing at
one point to eye Tremaine's flowing, well-groomed
Solamnic moustache. "Yer in good shape. Last o' yer kind I
saw looked more like a merchant man than a fighter. Round
as a tub."
Raag laughed. Arryl kept silent, figuring the dwarf was
only trying to provoke him into a fight
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