Moonsong Glacier torn butterfly wings

Oh, the man beneath them could have been a good fellow. He could have done wonderful things for those he cared for. Or she could have been a savage ruler who dominated any who questioned her judgment. The Taggerung had very few stories of the dead, and those that did dwell in his mind were of men and women so bold and dastardly that their stories must be told.

So what if he was? Collectors very rarely get to take what they cherish to the next life, the bard commented with a sly grin to the cyclops.

Cluny’s next query was rather a strange one. He wished to know what it was that the Taggerung collected. The bard frowned thoughtfully, looking to the clouded sky with a curious expression. He knew the answer, but he did not know if he wished to share it with the Scourge.

Why, Cluny, you old devil. The Taggerung collects stories, of course. And I’ve a feeling you have many of them worth telling.