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| - The dark-robed figure moved through the milling undead with purpose and stood before the standing Brilhado. "Speak," the Brilhado demanded of the necromancer coldly; he was growing impatient with senseless interruptions. "Lord, Giliara is dead. He tried to breach the temple of Light and was consumed. Our posted agents remained long enough to determine that the Derenians plan for withdrawal." "So they presumed to used Giliara against us. It is amusing that they thought they could accomplish anything with a Brilhado. It is unfortunate; if they had succeeded, we may have been able to acquire the temple's wealth from them. So the Light Lord protects his treasure for another day. It makes no difference; the goddess who rejected us will fall. What, are you still here? Whatever else do you wish?" "My lord... Drakath is failing... he cannot hope to..." "Drakath will serve his purpose... Do not concern yourself with the shadow beings. This serves our purpose regardless of the result. Should Akriloth recover his Orb, the creatures of shadow take the blame. The game remains as it ever was. Only a few realize and accept what comes for them. In time, they shall know, but by then the master will be ascendant. We have already enough to open the doorway. Everything else is but tools for the master's armies..." "Yes, my lord." "Sacrifice whatever is necessary to Drakath's cause... if it seems his failure is imminent, withdraw those of the dark army under our employ... If the dark dragon falls, he falls. No need to waste our own energy..." "Yes, my lord..." The Brilhado smiled wickedly; his beautiful face made the expression somehow infinitely more frightful. "Plans remain exactly on schedule..."
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