They say shortly after her soft feet first bled on our dirt, the slaver Kara-thu-Khan traded her for iron to some weak townsman. ……………… ……………………… …………….. ……………. …………………… ……………… ……………………… …………… …….. …….ken by Barakch-kha. You know that name, don’t you? A renegade whose sword has drank the blood of a hundred enemies. He dragged her away to the lawless camps hidden deep in the wastes.”
The old man leans in closer, his voice dropping to a wicked whisper. “The rumors go silent there. They do not say what a camp of ruthless, blood-starved outcasts did with a beauty ……………… ……………………… …………….. ……………. …………………… ……………… ……………………… .ntirely bare to the wind, and completely defenseless. I leave that to your own dark imagination,
THE CHRONICLE BREAKS HERE, CONSUMED BY DUST AND DRIED COPPER.
THEY SAY THE FULL TALE LIVES ONLY IN THE FADING MEMORY OF THE BEGGAR – THE OLD WATCHER WHO SITS WITH HIS RUSTED BOWL BENEATH THE ARCHWAYS OF THE CAPITAL. HE KNOWS MORE THAN YOU DARE TO GUESS.
FIND HIM, FILL HIS BOWL, AND PERHAPS THE GHOSTS OF GAJAH WILL FINALLY SPEAK.