Talk:Gandharva/@comment-198.54.211.2-20150206225457

Imagine yourself as a survivor, a former conscript of the order that forced you to fight and left your parents and family to their greedy lustful clutches. And your now on a train with your comrades riding to any town who is willing to accept you. You cling onto whatever hope is left, and to you; your only hope and sanity saver is the old guitar you played with.

Suddenly, as you were singing an old, but very nostalgic tune of a dragon, fire, and a small town; a tanned, well endowed bird woman stops at your seat.

"That's a nice tune" She chirped. "Want to hear mine?"

Your blood turns cold for a moment as you remember your escape from the mass orgy that once spread the battlefield with sex and debauchery. You remember her voice, her face, even her body as you recognized the Gandharva that destroyed your only hope in being reunited with family, and from the way she looked at the remnants of your uniform; you could have sworn that she recognizes you.

what do you do?