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What compels a reasonably friendly gnome to call upon the powers of the Plaguebringer?
It's a long story. A bard might begin it like this...
A Glimpse of Childhood
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During his childhood years, Morty spent a great deal
of time chasing tiny little bats through the caverns of Ak'Anon, or playing
with the friendly clockworks. |
| When he was feeling particularly adventurous, he would
sneak out into the Steamfont Mountains to visit his father, a Watchman who
guarded the path. |
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One rainy night, a pack of howling wolves emerged from
the mist and surrounded the poor Watchman. Little Morty, hiding behind a tree,
could only watch as the beasts tore into his father. The suffering was brief.
Just as Morty turned away to flee, the wolves shifted into elven and halfling
forms. |
| Terrified, Morty ran back to the safety of Ak'Anon,
hiding himself deep in the Mines of Malfunction. |
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Cowering in the darkness, he heard a ghostly voice
whispering words of comfort... and words of vengeance. Other spectral voices
soon joined together in a chorus of bitterness and rage, weaving a dark song
of bloody stone and burning wood. |
| The dead were tired of resting in peace. |
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