*polgara puts her head in her hands* man i havent had that much to drink to give me a headache *then she looks over to the corner where Ogremindes sits* hay where did you come from*
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*then as there is a crack at the door pol looks over* what was that? *she walks over to the door, opens it and Tiamat flops in to the taven* hay are you ok?
What eternal hand of eye, what limitless imagination, could concieve the pangs of immortal life? An eternity of broken dreams. A place where once I died. what divine-concieved design, could match a mortal life? A wry and rapt mortality. A life played out in sounds, of weeping, screaming sighs. Is this when the night comes down? The Shadow in us all, that ebbs and flows with ignorance...