Khaal Dzekh'aar Estate
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"They still cry, you know," the Kathar spoke, turning to face the crowd set before him. "They weep for the misery and death that has been brought upon them."
His eyes, a constellation of crimson pinpricks on a moonless sky. A pale-gloved hand, stained with freshly-spilt blood wiped at his mouth, streaking against his sharp features as he continued to speak.
"You say that I cheat -- that I acted dishonorably in this duel, and stained the sanctity of its meaning -- yet here we are, standing in a celebration of renewal for this Khaal, built from the ashes of Petalcourt." He scoffed at the notion, tossing a blacksteel dagger to the wayside, landing near its former wielder. His shadowed cloak billowed along with a breeze unfelt by any, his steps leading him to face the naysayer. "If hypocrisy were a virtue, you would be the Prefect of it, my dear. To burn a hundred score of innocents is a triumph, and to exploit a man's weakness, a travesty? I'll have you know, wood burns."
He turned away then, arms spread wide as he addressed the crowd, Sigils in the dueling ring glowing with eerie power as the slain rose again. "We do not fault the rodent for its lack of force, to drive off predators with might alone. No, we expect it to be cunning, to burrow, to sneak -- to exploit the shadows where it make eke out an existence yet." The bloodstained hand moved to gesture at his goliath opponent.
"To disdain me for cunning is to disdain yourselves for any advantage you possess. Do we pride ourselves in meekness? Are we no longer the greatest yet to walk this plane? Would you forsake your gifted abilities in vain pursuit of arbitrary standard?"
He paused, his circuit around the ring coming to an end. "No. We pride ourselves in power, and should you take anything from this night..."
Chymes Mortimarti took a moment, looking each of them in the eye...
"Knowledge is Power."
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"They still cry, you know," the Kathar spoke, turning to face the crowd set before him. "They weep for the misery and death that has been brought upon them."
His eyes, a constellation of crimson pinpricks on a moonless sky. A pale-gloved hand, stained with freshly-spilt blood wiped at his mouth, streaking against his sharp features as he continued to speak.
"You say that I cheat -- that I acted dishonorably in this duel, and stained the sanctity of its meaning -- yet here we are, standing in a celebration of renewal for this Khaal, built from the ashes of Petalcourt." He scoffed at the notion, tossing a blacksteel dagger to the wayside, landing near its former wielder. His shadowed cloak billowed along with a breeze unfelt by any, his steps leading him to face the naysayer. "If hypocrisy were a virtue, you would be the Prefect of it, my dear. To burn a hundred score of innocents is a triumph, and to exploit a man's weakness, a travesty? I'll have you know, wood burns."
He turned away then, arms spread wide as he addressed the crowd, Sigils in the dueling ring glowing with eerie power as the slain rose again. "We do not fault the rodent for its lack of force, to drive off predators with might alone. No, we expect it to be cunning, to burrow, to sneak -- to exploit the shadows where it make eke out an existence yet." The bloodstained hand moved to gesture at his goliath opponent.
"To disdain me for cunning is to disdain yourselves for any advantage you possess. Do we pride ourselves in meekness? Are we no longer the greatest yet to walk this plane? Would you forsake your gifted abilities in vain pursuit of arbitrary standard?"
He paused, his circuit around the ring coming to an end. "No. We pride ourselves in power, and should you take anything from this night..."
Chymes Mortimarti took a moment, looking each of them in the eye...
"Knowledge is Power."
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