It has been said by those who observe the horrors of Sosaria for many ages, that the greatest evil will be committed by those who think they do good.
Ages have come and gone and still yet, clearly, the insane need to stop helping people.
You could not recall away from the rain that dusk. From the beaches of Blackrock, to Skara Brae a facet away. It poured.
It poured on the Caravan for it's entire trail. Trekking through the mud from Britain on this dismal day the Caravan was relieved, to say
the least, that they could now see the farmlands on the outskirts of the town of spirituality.
Unfortunately for all creatures that enjoy and respect life that evening, an unsavory Cabal stumbled across,
..... a dead chicken .....
Perhaps their madness is to be forgiven one day. A treaties on alchemy lets us know
that the art of conjuring in the ether of reagents is weary on the mind, body and soul.
It was a shock that after about 22 paces and 11 seconds of spastic laughter a caravan appeared before them.
Arrows flew, spells ignited, poison dosed evenly, and people died for seemly no reason.
The
"horrific and devastating blow to skara brae's livestock population and agriculture business" was avenged.
The questioning went fast and well, probably due to bewilderment and shock of the survivors.
Once original beliefs and speculations were challenged, like any fanatic, they attackers fled into the trees.
What the hell happened that night? Or was it just another day in a Sosaria without its stranger king...
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