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Post by umus on Aug 7, 2017 14:36:18 GMT
It wasn't the screams or the smell of death, no, he had heard and smelled all that before. It wasn't the burning flesh either, he was acquainted at Uniorh. None of that haunted Ajirai. It was the cries for help, sons screaming for their mothers, grown men shitting themselves in the face of death. Men he had trained with, men he considered brothers in arms calling to him for help, and he fled. Some of his men were so young, barely of age. Their lives taken from them too soon. As soon as the enemy broke through the walls of Bragoass, everything turned to chaos. He gathered as many men as he could and fled through the underground. Taking the long way back to Teremund, he knew if he were attacked there he would die. He took his few dozen men and the people of his village and moved to Highcalere Keep. He hoped Al-Hasash made it, he would need his men if they had any hope of surviving at Highcalere. Everyone presumed Saladin dead, even without a body as proof. All Ajirai knew is that he had failed his people, and that the odds were against them now.
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