Where before he felt that Thassilon might have been a gateway to some higher effort for human achievement, the libraries, the insights. He was now entirely contemptuous. Their striving had eaten them alive. Their civilization hadn't civilized them. They learned nothing from all their learning. The capricious deaths of the possibly transformed, even if they had originally been fish, had convinced him of their utter selfishness.
This place was a cathedral to self importance and disregard and disloyalty,..and cruelty.
Illian shifted and smiled, perhaps slipping further into innocence, or madness; the wizards were stirring, and Hal finally allowed himself some repose.
When he awoke, he retained only a shred of his original intent: that parley might be possible with survivors, that rescue or escape might have some value for someone who had been trapped, willingly or otherwise.
As they entered the huge cavern of lust, however, the flying demons and rows of cages convinced him that this place had absolutely nothing to offer. That it was time to erase any possibility of a return of any sensible fragment of Thassilon. The language he had just mastered became just like Infernal: a way to understand, to penetrate, to destroy an enemy. There was a demon at the heart of this chamber too, at the heart of each of them, that needed to be banished from the earth.
He whispered a prayer, "Iomedae, grant me your strength of heart and clarity of vision, that I may protect my friends as we obliterate any trace of this horror." There would be no parley.Statistics: Posted by bralbovsky — Fri Apr 06, 2018 11:33 pm
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