Sir Fallon walked north out of the goblin camp. No goblins approached or harassed him. When he was clear of the camp he stopped briefly to re-wrap the stump of hand where his fingers had been. All that remained was his thumb, and, though it hurt, he found that was enough to grip the knife which had taken his fingers. He took the knife in his other hand, called upon Mitra, and caused the vicious blade to burst into flames. The hot metal did more than the crude bandages to stop the bleeding, though he nearly passed out from the pain.
Recovering himself, Sir Fallon continued walking. If the goblin warlord had told him the truth about the witches heading for Farholde, and he saw no reason to disbelieve the cocky beast, then he had a three-hundred mile walk ahead of him. He walked long into the night, until his legs could carry him no farther, then pitches his camp in the lee of a large boulder. As soon as his eyes closed, he heard her voice…
“If it makes you feel any better, the warlord was right,” the girl’s voice said.
“Did you find Branderscar as hospitable as we did? Do you even know why we were in Branderscar? Did you ever even care?” The raven haired dream-girl turned to face Sir Fallon, blood red eyes glittering darkly.
“My cousin was seven years old. Condemend to death because of who our grandmother’s grandmother’s grandmother fucked. Abomination. Monster. Death by drowning, merely for being born. You probably saw her wanted posters in town. Well, before you burned it down…”
“My family has been hunted so the Zealot could cement his power base and eliminate the last scattered remnants of his most powerful political opponents. I’ve been dodging soldiers and witch-hounds like you my entire life, scraping just to survive. How many have you killed? Dozens, hundreds, thousands? Were they all as guilty as a seven year old girl? Guilty of being in the wrong bar?”
“You are a murderer. An arsonist. A deserter. The Lord Commander died a good man, for whatever that is worth. You? You’ll just die. Come, hunter. I shall serve Azmodeus better in death than I ever have in life. The light of Mitra casts shadows deeper than you know…”