“The Turucks have long departed from these parts," said Darkin Rost. The old Turuck spat the sand from his mouth. His rubbed his mahogany fingers over his teeth, rubbing away the grit. "Northward, I would guess. They left nothing of value behind." "Where are they heading?" asked Gorm Talos. His dark green clothes hugged his lean frame. He was one of few Daerlan old enough to have graying hair although he was younger than the ageless Navir. "I cannot guess," said Darkin Rost. He dug in a fire... pit with his dagger. "I left my people behind a long time ago. They were no longer happy with their lot in life, but leaving their desert home would not be their choice. I believe Tag Makk no longer controls his own thoughts." "The Menaloch?" asked Kerreth Veralier. "I believe so. Dvorak, do you agree?" "Ah, yes," said the fat mage, Dvorak Annis. "The Menaloch's taint is on this land. I can smell it and I can even taste it, foul that it is. I'll need some wine to purge the lingering bitterness." He began to search in his pack.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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