Role

Chapter 3

On the day that he is stripped of knighthood and the mark of the unbreakable
blade is removed (with sorrow, and words of encouragement at least from the
knights), something snaps inside him. The months of caution and control are
gone in an instant and he lashes out, the pain overcoming his intellect, and
with his own hands he strikes the golden dragon! So powerful is his anger
and despair that they fuel terrible blows, knocking aside those who come to
help and defend, and before the horror-stricken eyes of his former comrades-
in-arms, he strikes a mortal blow! As it lays there dying, its blood flowing
in a river of gold, it uses its last breaths to speak: "By the magic of my
blood I lay upon you and your children a curse, so that all may know of your
treachery, and know you and those of your line may not be trusted. You will
not be hunted, but you will find no succor, either, until one day, long from
now perhaps, a child of yours can find and restore the Honor that you have lost
this day. You shall bear this mark the rest of your days, as shall your first
born, and his first born, and so on. So shall it be." And with that the noble
creature gasps a death rattle and submits to death.

Hollaran looks up and from those around him he hears gasps and cries of dismay,
just as he begins to feel intense pain, as though his face were on fire. His
face begins to contort before their eyes, twisting and molding and moving in
ways no giant's face was ever intended to be. The excruciating pain goes on
for what seems to be forever though in reality is only a few seconds, but when
it is done his face is disfigured so badly, mangled so thoroughly, that it is
difficult to tell who or even what he was and is. Nothing remains untouched or
unchanged, and no remnant of symetry or normalcy can be found. At the same
time, in the forgotten city of Ofcol, screams can be heard from a mother and
child as the boy undergoes similar torture.