[h3][center][color=#00a651][b]Brorin Foul[/b][/color][/center][/h3]

Brorin's voice stuck in his throat as the images and words flooded his mind. Sulfrey. Barbarians. The God-King sitting in his dead hall. [i]That knowing smile.[/i] Red hair. A scar. Hordes of horned knights pouring over the kingdom. Blood. Then silence. 

Then [b]noise[/b]. The walls crumbling down. The world slipping away from him. Darkness closing in on him. Heart pounding, eye flitting, but nothing. Nothing but noise! And through the haze... [i]That smile...[/i] 

[color=92278f][i]"Why do we keep him, father?"[/i][/color] - [color=8dc73f][i]"You will find out in the end, son."[/i][/color] [i]Echoes carry far in a church...[/i]
[color=9e005d][i]"I've got a treat for you, a right Foul task today."[/i][/color] [i]Those smiles...[/i] 
[color=9e0039][i]"You still not dead yet?"[/i][/color] 
[color=8dc73f][i]"You...? Why...?"[/i][/color] [i]Now it was his turn to smile...[/i]

Brorin's knees buckled as he fell into... Softness. A wheat field? He felt a cool breeze run through his eye socket. And there were birds! His heart calmed at a steady pace, only to flare up again as he noticed his mask had slipped. With trembling hands, he picked it up and put it back where it belonged, over his fair, unblemished half-face. You could dress up a monster, but [i]why cover up the truth[/i]? 

Grabbing his cane - his equipment all seemed to be there, alchemy satchel and all - he pushed himself up through what dizziness still lingered. Finally he could get a good look at these "chosen ones". There was a huge, brutish woman, not one to mince words that one, not even with the Warden, what few words she knew. A pale giantess surveying the scene with a stone-cold detachment, or was it dejection? An elf with a high and haughty posture, but hiding something in a sleeve of her dress. A ghostly girl, shy and red-eyed. A man who seemed too pridefully robed to have been a mere criminal, a psychopath, perhaps? A dark beast, its armor bloodied already. A lanky, silver-haired, ember-eyed man. And a halfling hidden in all their shadows. And then there was him... Blackguards, all. 

What a joke. What a cruel joke. For a moment Brorin turned away, toying with the idea of leaving them in the dust of this soon-to-be destroyed land. Plagueborn were despised everywhere equally anyway, it wouldn't make much of a difference wherever he went. But he quickly remembered that he [i][color=6ecff6]will do what She has said. That is all.[/color][/i] He snickered, nodded, then he went silent. He truly wasn't getting out of this one, was he? They truly would have to kill a [i]God-King[/i], weren't they? And no one would truly lose a night of sleep for them if they died... would they? He muttered a verse from under his rasping breath. [i][color=00a651]"Even the fools will find out they fit in the end, huh? Damned witch..."[/color][/i]

Brorin turned back to the ones nearest to him. [b][color=00a651]"Which way's east, friends?"[/color][/b]