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Ashes to Ashes...
Posted: 14 Feb 2006 11:24 AM |
The White Bishop of Midor stood at the top of the Temple stairs. Before him the throng of people murmered. They had been roused from their daily routine to and escorted by the Red Knights to the Square. They knew he would be speaking today, but they did not know why.
“My dear people,” he began, his voice rang clearly throughout the Square, “I come to you in mourning. My sorrow knows no bounds.” The low buzz ceased abruptly. They all knew what the White Bishop was like when he expressed strong emotion. Though one would ever say say it aloud, they were all thinking one thing. Something was about to happen.
“The news has spread, I am certain. The village of Paws, which for centuries has been under the protection of Midor, is gone. Every adult in the village has been slaughtered.” He paused, letting the echo from his words dissipate. An Inquisitor approached from behind carrying a long, bundled parcel. “And this,” Vidus abruptly exclaimed as the Inquisitor unbundled a fierce looking spear, “is the weapon of the enemy!”
The crowd gasped as acid dribbled out, only to be caught by the bindings that blunted the spear tip. “Many of you do not know what this is. I shall tell you.” He sneered, “This is an elvish weapon.” The crowd stirred. “It was elves that murdered the citizens of Paws,” he cried. “Elves that, once again, have invaded our soverenty!” Cries of dismay and anger quickly grew. “They seek to undermine everything it is to be Midoran! They seek to destroy our way of life!.
The crowd erupted. Shouts for vengeance and justice were interspersed with demands for war. Vidus said nothing, but allowed the crowd to grow in its frenzy. “Death to the elves!” shouted one exceptionally loud voice. Others soon picked up the call.
“Death to the elves!”
Death to the elves!”
”DEATH TO THE ELVES!”
The crowd was chanting in unison now. Vidus soaked in the moment; a thousand Midoran’s, all united in purpose. Death to the elves. From the back of the crowds came several burly young men carrying wood. They set up the wood where, weeks earlier, Vidus has conducted the ritual of the Purge. They piled the wood until it taller then even the tallest lad. An older man, who Vidus knew to be an Enforcer out of uniform, threw a torch onto the pile. The wood ignited instantly, the flames licking the ramparts.
Through it all, Vidus said nothing. He knew that, with a word, he could stop the rage. It would be easy, he mused, to tell them to stop, that patience and understanding are a better path to Justice. In his mind he saw he heard Father Gill, his Ethics and Morality instructor at the seminary. “Justice can never be found through anger,” Father Gill had always said, “Heavy is the arm that holds the scale of Justice, for it must be stalwart in it’s duty and swayed not by passion.” And Vidus had believed that for a great many years. Yet now, he knew better. As he watched the crowd throw elvish made goods onto the fire, he pondered his insight. Father Gill was wrong, of course. Revenge is a function of rage and a tool of Justice. The passions of the people added strength to the arm of Justice. All it required was someone to guide it, to mold it, to shape the anger and rage of all Midoran’s like a blacksmith forges a sword.
The blacksmith heats the blade, shapes it with a hammer, followed by cooling the blade. The process is repeated until a sharp edged sword is produced. So it was with the passions of the people of Midor, which had been in a forge created by the White Bishop. They were now honed to a fine edge. Their anger and desire for vengeance gave him strength. And nothing would stand in his way.
“People of Midor,” he bellowed. He repeated himself three times before the crowd silenced enough for him to be heard. He spoke loudly over the persistent shouts and the roaring fire. “The elves that murdered our countrymen will never be found! Elves protect their own. The only way we shall strike a blow for justice is to strike a blow at the elves. Ferein protects the murderers responsible for this. We shall revenge ourselves upon Ferein threefold!” The crowd erupted again, but to his dismay, Vidus noticed something else. Several of the people were not cheering. In fact, they looked nervous, even scared. Not everyone is forged as well as I had hoped, thought the White Bishop. “All who do not with us are against us! All loyal people of Midor must unite under the banner of the White Bishop!” He roar was deafening, but he continued, “Unite, and we will have our revenge!”
The crowd continued to cheer. Vidus noticed with satisfaction several struggles within the crowd. The Enforcer he had seen, the one out of uniform, was making his way towards the bonfire, a younger, but obviously weaker man, in his arms. “This man is half-elvish!” he shouted. “He is the enemy!” Yes, thought Vidus, good. Make them act on their hate. Seal the course in blood and fire Shouts of “Throw him in!” grew in intensity. Without a moments hesitation, the Enforcer bound the young man’s arms and legs, then threw him into the fire. Another was brought forward, this time accused of laying with an elf. He to was thrown into the fire, this time by a Righteous Sword. |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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...Dust to Dust
Posted: 14 Feb 2006 11:24 AM |
Still another was dragged forward, a woman this time, accused of having an elvish grandmother. The crowd of young men around the fire were wearing the red sash marking them as the Red Guard of the New Order., a youth movement that had sprung up in the aftermath of the Purge. They pummeled the young woman on the head and shoulders with stones. Her nose broke, and blood flowed freely. Throw her in willed the White Bishop. As if by command, they did just that, and her scream, strangled and terrible, echoed from the temple walls.
Vidus watched passively as the violence escalated. This would be a lesson to those who opposed the New Order. The crowd was in a frenzy, and some has spilled out into the Eastren District. It was enough. “Silence!” bellowed Vidus. The Red Guard and Enforcers that were scattered throughout the crowd took charge, knocking those who would not be silent to the ground until, in a flurry of brutal efficiency, the crowd was again under control.
“The time has come,” started Vidus, “to take final action, and purge Midor of those who for so long have failed.” The crowed was like a wild dog, now forced to into a muzzle. He could feel the energy from the crowd, the rage. Like a blacksmith, he though wryly. Heat them up, then cool them down. Forge them into my tool. My weapon.
“The Order of Midoran did nothing to prevent this,” he shouted. “Their incompetence can no longer be tolerated.” The few paladins in the crowed looked franticly around. They knew what was coming. Some fled, others stood their ground, either not realizing what would happen or not thinking it would happen to them. “I have given all paladins the opportunity for redemption. They have all received the opportunity to join the Righteous Swords. Some have accepted my generous offer, but some cling to the past.” He looked at the paladins, “Today is the end of history. The Order of Midoran is hereby disbanded.” The crowd was prenaturally silent. Disbanded? After a thousand years? Could this really be happening? The crowd was torn between abject revultion and frenzied excitement.
The White Bishop Vidus Khain, the self-proclaimed Chosen of Midoran, turned to High Paladin Jongras Uvanle and whispered the three words that changed everything.
“Burn them all.” |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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IMPORTANT!
Posted: 14 Feb 2006 09:58 PM |
((***** PALADINS: YOU MUST READ THIS *****
If you are a Midoran Paladin and have not accepted Vidus' offer to become a Righteous Sword Knight, then you are now unable to use ANY Paladin abilities or spells AND you are now considered an Enemy of Midor.
At this point in time, the ONLY Paladins with use of all their powers on the ENTIRE SERVER are:
- Byron Lorian
- Chia Steele
- Markus Mortriety
- Sir Percival Sanner
- Cedrych von Maistlin
If you have not already done so, PM Fictrix for OOC information on upcoming developments.)) |
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Re: ...Dust to Dust
Posted: 15 Feb 2006 05:57 PM |
If he could have let his room rental simply expire and never return to the Four Winds, he would have. He was not looking to running into anyone and having to try to explain. At this point, he could barely explain it to himself, and wearing the armor, well, that wouldn’t exactly get anyone on his good side. But there were a few items left in his room that he had to get, so after some hemming and hawing, he decided to take care of it immediately.
Of course, he had run into someone – someones, actually: Lucius and Macha. And of course, Lucius had visibly startled at the sight of his armor, while Macha was her typically more reserved self. Yet, much to his relief, they had said nothing else about it. In fact, Lucius welcomed him, saying he was no longer interested in judging anyone about anything. Which, after Cedrych thought about it more later on, wasn’t exactly the most comforting comment, but it was exactly what he needed to hear at the time.
It was most unexpected, Cedrych thought, and most appreciated. He hadn’t realized just how troubled and upset he was about having to meet his former companions. He knew most wouldn’t understand, and he wasn’t sure if he could explain it yet. But true to their word, Lucius and Macha didn’t judge him. They talked for a while and ultimately went exploring through the woods and swamps around Buckshire. It was exactly what Cedrych had needed, and he was glad to see that Lucius was truly in love. The man had changed a lot since they had first met. He still wasn’t entirely sure it was all for the better, but at this point, who was he to judge?
He was surprised how good he felt about just being with them, enjoying their company and not thinking at all about the problems that plagued him and his faith. As he returned to Midor, his optimism began to rise, and his spirits were further buoyed by the sight of the city in the moonlight, asleep and peaceful, with no sign of the turmoil that was currently gripping it. Perhaps, he thought, just perhaps, things might change.
His good spirits lasted almost 12 hours.
He had been ordered to attend His Grace’s speech in front of the temple, and he looked forward to it with some dread. And when Vidus began talking about the massacre in Paws and elves in general, he knew it was not going to go well. It was exactly as many had feared: the massacre was being used by Vidus for his own ends.
But as despicable as that was, what happened next was…indescribable, something he would never forget. He remembered watching the Enforcer carry the man, apparently a half-elf, closer and closer to the fire, as if time had slowed down. There is time, he thought to himself. Do something! But all he managed was a “No!” as the man was thrown into the fire. His Righteous Sword colleagues looked at him, and one actually sneered. He ignored, his eyes locked onto the scene in front of him, a horrible feeling of nausea and disgusting overtaking him. People of Midor! What are you doing? It seemed to take forever, but, two more people were bound and thrown into the fire.
And he did nothing.
And he realized that this is how one became corrupt. It wasn’t necessarily through actions or behaviors. It wasn’t some devil or demon offering you your heart’s desire. It was through inaction – of letting something evil happen when you could have taken action. It was letting your heart and soul become inured to pain and suffering. What had the old Midoran philosopher said? All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.
Was he even a good man anymore?
And still he stood there as the final scene played out the picture that sent his soul plummeting to depths he had never thought existed. His faith, his belief in his city and all of mankind…simply gone…ripped out, leaving a void that left him physically shaking. Many of the Righteous Swords, moving to encircle the remaining paladins. The mob – for that’s what they were now – joining with them, blocking the paladins’ exit. One by one, the remaining paladins were bound and led closer to the fire. Some tried to fight back, while a few began sobbing and begging for forgiveness.
Except one, and Cedrych took a step back when he recognized who it was. Melios Lisant, his friend from the Academy. Of all people, Melios, his only friend from the Academy. “Melios,” he cried out, although the scene was now so loud and chaotic that no one heard him. This cannot happen, he thought, not to Melios. Go! Fight them! Help him! You must do something! He is your friend!
And still Cedrych did nothing.
Even as the mob and the Swords kicked and prodded and hit him, Melios stood there, his head held high, an oddly peaceful and serene expression on his face. At one blow, he doubled over in pain, then righted himself and merely nodded to his attacker, as if forgiving him for the transgression. He seemed to actually be walking towards the fire on his own.
As he reached the very edge of the bonfire, the Swords and the mob seemed to back off perhaps realizing that their taunts and attacks were doing very little. He turned to the crowd, and there was, for just an instant, silence, whether it was the force of Melios’ actions or the random moment of quiet that occasionally comes even in a mob scene. “Remember your faith, people of Midor.” Despite his quiet voice, his words rang across the square. “Remember the words of Midoran, not the words of one man.”
There was a slight pause, and for a split second, there was a chance, just a moment, when the crowd might have come to its sense. And then the silence was met by another voice, a riposte to Melios’ words, full of anger and spite. “The words of a traitor when he knows he has been discovered,” answered Vidus. “Nothing more. Let him meet his fate, whether quietly or in tears.
And the mob sprang up once again and pushed towards him. But Melios didn’t give them the satisfaction. Moving quickly, he turned once again and leapt into the fire. But not before he had looked at Cedrych – looked at him directly as if he had always known he was there. And Cedrych saw that he said four words to him, the words that finally moved him to action.
“Will you do nothing?”
And so finally, Cedrych von Maistlin did something. As he watched Melios leap into the fire, it all came to him at once. He had seen a few of the paladins flee the scene, knowing what was going to happen. While most of the mob had stayed, a few had started chasing them. And now that the paladins who had stayed were dead, more and more people, especially members of the Red Guard, were leaving to chase down the survivors.
His Righteous Sword companions were busy, so he was able to quietly back away and walk briskly towards the Western Districts, where most of the paladins had fled to. While he had never lived in the district, he had spend much time there as a boy. There were a few spots where anyone with half a brain would try to hide. Of course, that meant both the paladins and the Red Guard would know of them. And with the Inquisitors coming soon no doubt to root out any survivors, time was of the essence.
A few of the Red Guard were moving towards him, so adopting the best Righteous Swords sneer he could muster, he ordered them to search in another part of the district. They looked at his red armor and moved off quickly. Then he ducked into one of the alleys that was quiet so far and saw a slight movement in the shadows. Just as he had expected…it was where he would have tried to hide. And paladins were notoriously inept at hiding...
“Come out, quickly,” he said flatly. “You won’t be able to hide much longer. I’m sure the Inquisitors will be coming soon, so you need to leave the city as quickly as possible.”
There was a slight guttural sound, perhaps of surprise, but no one appeared.
“Damnit, man, there is no time! Come on out! I can help you, but only if you let me!”
After a moment, a tall, lean man with straggly grey hair inched out of the shadows, a long sword held at the ready. He was older, and look tired and wild-eyed. He was, Cedrych thought to himself, the least likely looking paladin he had ever seen. As if you can talk, his mind responded.
“Why should I believe you?” the man asked hesitantly. “Why would you do this?”
“Because I choose to,” Cedrych responded, and he threw a large red cloak to the man, who caught it gracefully with one hand while keeping his sword pointed at Cedrych.
The man paused for a moment, then shrugged, sheathed his sword and began putting on the cloak. “I suppose I have nothing to lose at this point. Hard to believe that Vidus did something that even a Righteous Sword couldn’t stomach.”
What was that, an insult? A challenge? Or just something to see how he would react? Cedrych merely shrugged.
The man looked at him, puzzled. Only when he had finished putting the cloak on did his face register understanding. “You are – were – a paladin, then?”
It was Cedrych’s turn to pause. “I was. Perhaps I still am. I don’t know.”
The man watched his expression. “Whatever you are, it was good of you to do this. I owe you my life.”
“You aren’t out of it yet. I may have only delayed the inevitable. But it’s the least I could, given that I just stood there and watched my own order – my friends – burned to death.”
“What could you have done?”
“I don’t know," said Cedrych hollowly, every word burning him, "but I should have done something. Innocent people died. Paladins died. And I did nothing.”
“You’re helping me.”
“It’s not enough!” Cedrych cried, then looked back down the alley, fearful his voice might have caught someone's attention. “What sort of paladin just stands there and does nothing in the face of pure evil. I didn’t have the courage to stand up for anyone. I didn’t have the courage to fight and die for what I believe in, just as I was taught. What was all that training for at the Academy? Wasted on me!” He shook his head.
“And what of me?” the man asked calmly, doing his best to ensure the cloak covered any part of his clothes that might reveal his secret. “I ran, deserted my colleagues, left innocent people to their death. And now I need your help. If you’re a coward, what does that make me?”
Cedrych shook his head. “I – I don’t know.” He sighed and thought of Lucius’ words. “With the things I have done, I can’t judge anyone else.”
The man looked at him intently, then walked towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. “What happened today is not your fault. Or mine. Or anyone else’s save Vidus and his minions.”
“What?” Cedrych pulled away and looked at him incredulously. “Is this how you make yourself feel better? What kind of paladin are you?” His words were sharp. Of all the paladins to find, he thought to himself.
The man smiled ruefully for a moment, then was serious. “We have failed the people of Midor, you and I, the paladins. We failed them when Vidus first came to power. We failed them when we didn’t act as he set down his edicts one by one. We failed them when we rebelled, and most of us had no idea why. As a paladin I take full responsibility for those failures, and I pay for them every day of my life. I grieve for everyone who died today, and I swear that I if I survive this day, I will make Vidus pay. But if you and I had fought back today, the only thing that would have changed is the body count. What was going to happen today was going to happen.”
Cedrych considered the paladin's words, unconsciously pressing down the ends of his moustache. “But our Code. We’re…we’re supposed to live by the ideals of our Code.” He looked again back down the alley, but no one was there. The man needed to go. This was dangerous, yet somehow…somehow he needed to hear this.
“Yes, we have a Code of ideals,” the man said, “but we live in a highly imperfect world. Most of the time our ideals win, but don’t you think that at some point, that highly imperfect world will triumph, that it will create a no-win situation, a situation where the best we can do isn’t good enough? And sometimes, we have to live with that.”
“I don’t believe that, and that’s not even the point!” Cedrych scoffed, becoming a bit more animated. “We had a clear course of action – to defend those people. It’s what the Code requires. And we failed.”
“If the course of action, was so clear, how come you didn’t do it” the man asked, his voice now cold and direct. “How come no one did? Are we all cowards?”
It stopped him, this barrage of questions. He looked around the alley, struggling with his emotions. Finally: “I don’t know. Maybe…”
“Perhaps we all are cowards, you’re right,” the man said, his voice softer and with more empathy. ‘But the Code doesn’t require us to commit suicide. We were not created to follow the Code. The Code was created for us. We are not mindless slaves to it. It is a living, breathing document that defines who we are. See, that’s the difference. The Code defines us, but it is not us! It is a means to an end – to find the salvation of Midoran and spread goodness across Vives. There are many ways to serve the Code and live up to those ideals.”
“Is Vidus’ philosophy just one more way to serve the Code then?”
The man snorted. “I don’t remember revenge and justice guided by anger being any part of the Code. Besides, he is a priest, and so knows nothing of courage.”
The little jibe failed to move Cedrych.
“Listen to me,” he continued. “If I thought for a moment that by acting, by attacking or delivering the finest speech the world has ever known, that I might have saved just one of those people, I would have done so in a heartbeat. And I think you feel the same way. You hate yourself because you didn’t act, although it meant certain death. Yet when the opportunity arose to actually help someone, you took it. You knew you could make a difference.”
He put his hand on Cedrych’s shoulder again.“That’s being a paladin.”
“You may still die.”
The man nodded, smiling a bit now. “I may well, especially if I stay here much longer. But now at least I have a chance, thanks to you.”
“Head for the docks. There’s probably enough ships this time of season that they can’t have covered them all by now. With any luck, you can find one shipping out very soon. It's a small chance, but one nonetheless.”
“You should go to. You’ve put yourself at great risk. No doubt some will remember you in this part of the city, and the Inquisitors have all sorts of means of finding out things. It’s clear you’re not much of a Righteous Sword.”
Cedrych shook his head resolutely. “No. I will not leave this city, especially if there are others I can help now.”
“I understand.” He embraced Cedrcyh briefly. “Thank you, brother. May Midoran’s light guide you always.” He walked quickly back out the alley and onto the main street heading towards the dock.
“Thank you, brother” whispered Cedrych softly as he walked to the other end of the alley, squeezed through a hole in the gate, and went to look for any other survivors. |
The world is a fine place, and worth fighting for...
-- Ernest Hemingway |
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The Spark
Posted: 15 Feb 2006 06:31 PM |
It was a subtle thing at first, but as the fire grew, more and more in the crowd began to notice it. Even the other Righteous Swords paused uneasily when it happened.
The Mystics...
They stared, enraptured and enthralled, as the flames rose high and the heat caused the air to ripple with terrible mirages. Their eyes glowed the colour of flame: red and orange and gold blazing in suddenly alien and inhuman eyes.
From High Captain Johanas Uvanle's side, the cold and terse voice of the High Inquisitor spoke from apparently empty air:
"Get all the Mystics out of here. Now."
With typical efficiency, the other Righteous Swords were mobilised and whisked the Mystics away in a matter of minutes. Too late. Far too late.
The inner fire had been ignited. It was only a matter of time before it inevitably became a roaring blaze. |
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Re: The Spark
Posted: 15 Feb 2006 09:45 PM |
~~ It was impossible to hold back. It crept out like a trickle of water. It was slow....but it was coming. As the chants of "death to the Elves" got louder it got bigger. He had to lower his head to hide it. The smell of burning flesh was wofting everywhere now. His head still looking down.
"Captain Sanner? Are you all right sir?" asked a Sword that was standing next to him.
~~ The quietest of chuckles came out. As he raised his head. There it was. To be seen by all. Especially by those that were being purged. He wanted them to see it. He wanted it to be the last thing they saw.
"Im fine" Sanner answered.
The massive smile on his face was a testimony to it. |
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Coup De Grace
Posted: 17 Feb 2006 06:59 PM |
coup de grâce n. pl.
1. A deathblow delivered to end the misery of a mortally wounded victim.
2. A finishing stroke or decisive event.
~*~
The day that fateful speech was given was not the day recorded in history as the day that the Old Order died. No, that was to come later.
Four days later, to be precise.
~*~
Red Sky Dawning :: Lockdown |
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The Chosen of Midoran
Posted: 18 Feb 2006 09:44 AM |
Red Sky Dawning :: White Sky in the Morning
~*~
The White Bishop opened his eyes and blinked against the blinding white light. The light danced in the temple like a wildfire, flickering and burning yet consuming nothing. It enveloped the altar and spiraled around the temple statue.
Immediatly after his speech, Vidus had retired to the temple chapel. There he had fallen prostrate in prayer, the depth of which he had never before experienced. Four days he prayed like this, splayed before the altar, taking no food or drink. He offered his body, mind, and soul in communion with the Presence of Midoran. And after every prayer session, the light surrounding the altar grew brighter.
Oh holy Midoran, your name be praised beyond all others. You are the power and the will, and I am your servant. Make me a vessel of your will, to destory those who have failed you, to eliminate those who have opposed you.
There will be a price, my servant
I am yours, my Lord. Make of me what you will.
So be it.
He opened his eyes and knew his prayer had been answered. The white blaze before him was righteous fire, ready to be released. it only needed direction. No, not direction. It already knew where to go. The will of the white fire and Vidus were as one. He did not notice the white light spiraling around him. He did not notice his own spirit becoming detached; replaced by another presence until the two were one.
Midoran raised his right hand, the hand of the White Bishop, his servant on Vives, and pointed it to skyward. Power flowed from his hand, the white light of Midoran made manifest in a destructive blast. He spread his fingers, and the light divided into five beams, all bound for the same destination.
The Isle of Midoran.
****
Midday light streamed into the room, waking Vidus from a deep sleep. He blinked in confusion. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was praying in the Chapel, then...
The pain exploded in his mind. He flailed wildly, but the pain was so intense he could not find the source. He reached wildly for the bed post in an effort to hold onto something until the pain past. But he could grab onto nothing, and the stump that ended in his wrist was the only thing that touched the post. He cried out again in searing pain.
Ashes fell from the burnt stump where his hand used to be. There had been a price. He undestood, and stopped screaming. He did not call for a healer, and he quickly sent away the Mystics who had burst into the room to investigate his cries of pain. This was the price, the loss of his hand and the pain was prayer. |
Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.
-Henry David Thoreau
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Divine Fire
Posted: 18 Feb 2006 05:43 PM |
*Four days after the fateful speech that led to the disbanding of the Paladin Order, the Isle of Midoran was utterly destroyed in a blaze of divine white fire*
*All perished in the holy fire, every part of the isle utterly disintegrated, every body completely incinerated so that not even ashes remained*
*There were half a thousand lives snuffed that day*
*There are no known survivors; how can there be? It would have taken a miracle of cosmic proportions to survive the wrath of a god* |
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Re: Divine Fire
Posted: 18 Feb 2006 08:26 PM |
"Place it there. Right on the docks. I want a full view of it." Sanner ordered.
"I want a bottle of wine. And a roast." He chuckled to himself at the irony of his choice of meal.
"Your table and chair are ready Captian Sanner." spoke a Sword.
~~ Sanner sat down. A confident smile on his face. As the food and wine he ordered arrived he watched every flame. Heard every scream. Watched every single body burst into flame. Oh what a sight. He had waited so long. So, so long for this. Now it was happening. The Just Hand was finally making its move. Some would run. Some would join. Others....the foolish ones would resist. Purge. Purge them all. It is what he was created for. It was what he longed to do. Now he had his chance. The smell of the roast was coming up from the plate. Or....was it coming from the Isle. No matter. What better way to enjoy a fine meal then with a fine show. Sanner raised his glass high into the air at the direction of the Isle.
"Praise Midor!" he shouted.
~~ As he brought the glass to his lips the taste of the wine filled his mouth. He would savor it. He would savor all of it.~~. |
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