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. "A Knight of the Order of the Rose!
This must be a sign, that one of the servants of the Great
Enemy should fall into our hands so easily! Our infernal
Lord Morgion MUST find this sacrifice satisfactory."
"What of the others, Nightmaster?" The newcomers
were covered from head to toe in enveloping cloaks and
hoods. Only the Nightmaster's features were visible. He had
a long, vulpine face, and his skin looked mottled.
"This one will die this eve. The rest are sheep and will
be sacrificed as needed. The knight is of utmost importance.
For him, we must plan a ceremonial death, a slow,
debilitating death, with one of the slower, more intricate
poisons."
"But, Nightmaster," pleaded another, "we've tried
before and failed. Some are saying the gods have all
abandoned Krynn - "
"Blasphemy!" The leader's shout silenced the
questioner. Under the cleric's baleful gaze, the other cultists
reached down and took hold of the knight.
"Bind and gag him . . . just in case."
The acolytes obeyed with cold efficiency.
Desperate, Rennard swung his sword at the closest, but
his weapon passed through the man without harm. Rennard
stared at his hand, thinking how useless it was despite the
heavy gauntlet. To all living things, I am less than the wind!
A wave of agony sent him to his knees. His frustration
had left him open to the curse. The plague was coursing
through his body. He fought back the pain. Through blurred
eyes, Rennard watched the cultists carry Dornay away.
"Paladine
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