nōnāgintā octō

"I've never been made to feel like this ever."

He cut the words short. He wanted to continue and make the man understand what he was going through and he had gone through. That the man might take it quite seriously.

The man was stern. His face was bold and his wrinkles were static. The Duke had no idea what was going on in the mind of the man.

The man was the only Necromancer and very much the herbalist of the land. If he hadn't gone to meet the man there wouldn't had been any one to meet any more.

The man was dressed in skins and his face was painted in sundry arrays of colours. Mainly divided into three: his left eye down was painted red, the right down, blue and the top of the head to the rise of the eyelids, green.

He was expecting what he had to say. He was hoping dearly that the herbalist wouldn't be like the others who didn't see what he was seeing.

"How do you want to convince me on this?"