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"Bad?" mumbled Fred in frustration and anger. "Bad is when you're told
that the local joust has been called off, or the harvest has been cut by a
third due to locusts. This wasn't bad... it was a horror! Not
only did I feel the bite of each viper, not only did I feel my very breath
leave me, but the shock and disgust of realizing the depth of Astra's
deception, of her moral turpitude and degradation. Bad isn't the word."
Qundarian looked at the ghost of Lord Fred and a soft glow covered his eyes, a look of recognition and compassion. "No, I guess it isn't." They sat there for a while, Fred in a state of near-shock and Qundarian simply waiting it out. This wasn't the first time for him. When Fred was finally relaxed the old man commenced his lesson. "So you must never forget what your mission is. That must be your focus, or you will deteriorate beyond the form of a simple ghost." "What would become of me then?" "Do you really want to know? Some become poltergeists...angry, mindless phantoms that haunt a particular tunnel or cavern. They are less than human and have the anger of demons. Others become dismembered protoplasts, that is to say, bits and pieces of ethereal vapor. Have you ever walked into a room lit by a fire and multiple candles only to feel a freezing air near a chair or by the rug? Usually that's part of what used to be a ghost, only now it's just a... part. You will exist, but you will not have any cognition. Even the poltergeists have some form of will." "Is that what we shall meet up with closer to the Dragon's lair?" "Some, yes. But there are a few strong-willed souls who are waiting for the day in which they shall have their vengeance upon the minion that killed him. We must find the strong ones, and leave the others to their death."
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7/10/2001 10:39:52 PM
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