Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-29461586-20141223184931/@comment-32420582-20141224025421

Rykadiar grumbled quietly to the mask "Do-- 'nt. Tr-- y to min--ip--u--lat--e-- me." (He spoke like that because of his throat.) the cross breed warlord signalled for a drink and the bar tender gave him one. He downed his drink quickly, the mead soothing his throat. Rykadiar had faced worse fates, once he had to survive in Elsweyr with no water and he was injured greatly on his leg after he fought off a giant beast carrying the armor he wore today inside of it. He got the sword from a bandit crime lord who was running a scheme all over the Summerset isles, Rykadiar heard the mask whisper "You cannot deny me, I am the voice in your head. I am what makes you what you are, you are my minion..."

"Si--le--nt ma--sk." Rykadiar growled angrily.