SHATTERED  PRIDE The leal Herald of Azdromoth drew upon the letter with an ire beset upon his countenance, a visage wroth with anger at the mere suggestion he were a betrayer. To who, Azdromoth? No, never. He grips the missive with a fist on one side, crinkling its surface upon the black gauntlet he bore. "How dare they suggest this UTTER non-sense?" He balls up and throws the paper aside, kicking it against the back wall of his granite hearth fire. Smoldering licks of bright orange consume