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Maenpaur
Submitted by Sylrond on May 7th, 2013
'A hundred skirmishes on the Long March; their faces haunt him, seeming to glow in intent to burn themselves into his memory. He sees them every night. He never wanted this, never wanted to be good at what his brother had excelled at; it disgusted him, and it is not long before the stains on his hands began to taint his spirit.'
