Textblock #4045

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The prisoner gazes at you, cat-like eyes darting around, as if to ensure you were material and real. His clawed hand, firmly grasping his clothed item, reaches out and touches you, then darts his hand back. Finally he speaks in a  voice long parched for thirst. "Greetings to you stranger, I am Myn-Al, of the faith of Felarizal. Forgive my apprehension but my imprisionment has lasted several days, each of them filled with torture by my half-brethern keepers." A sudden wracking cough over takes his entire body, soon blood is staining his dirty golden fur. He still keeps a grip on his clothed item, but the rest of his body slumps weakly against. His eyes closed tightly he finally says to you,
"Perhaps you may do a dying missionary one last service?"

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