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When the Dead Awaken: Pt. 2

"Faraji." Dutaee said in response once he was able.

Faraji rose slowly and ponderously, like a bear rising from winters hibernation, the layer of dust and rock falling from his mummified Amani frame as he did so. A grin split that thick face, threatening to crack it, "You look well!" he said, gesturing to the younger self-image Dutaee had unknowingly taken.

Dutaee lifted an arm, examining his youthful appearance, "Yes. Hakkajin and the others are dutiful in their offerings.  The blood of animals does well in satisfying the hunger of the ...symbiote." he said.

Dutaee's picture

When the Dead Awaken.

Time passed oddly in the spirit realm. Hours could pass in minutes, and seconds could last for years. It all depended upon the spirits sense of perception, on how closely they wished to examine the moment. Unbound by the confines of flesh, a spirit could live an eternity in a single moment, forever experiencing the subtle and wonderful details of that perfect scene. Dutaee was experiencing such a moment right now as he watched over his second wife.

Sia's picture

The Watchful Bard

What a day...Aya thought to herself as she sat in her hammock in the Gadgetzan tavern, watching over the wounded and sleeping. Her fingers played over the strings of the guitar sitting in her lap, soft tunes filling the air, as if to help banish the horrible events of the evening. There wasn't much that could be done for the village, which Aya had just started to call home. They had landed in Tanaris after some kind of stone they had been working on teleported them there. Sadly, she couldn't remember for the life of her what they were called.

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