"To Ferazels Wand, to the Patriarch, Ben Spees. To all the enjotment the world of Ferazel has brought, to the devotion of the mighty Patriarchs still-loyal disciples. To Mascot, the tool from which all our power has come from. But Ferazel is not gone yet. Ferazel is a shadow on a wall, a ghost, but he is not gone yet."

Salrillian raises his glass of Ziridium Ale, and takes a small sip.

"Thank you to everyone who has helped make Ferazel what it is. Most of all, Ben Spees, but also all the forumgoers and world-builders, who have helped Ferazel live on, long after it may have."

He raises his glass and takes a larger sip, a small cut on his trunk disappears.

"It is truly a shame to see the world of the hero Ferazel go, the world crafted by the mighty patriarch in all his glory."

Salrillian raises his glass and finishes whats left of it in a single large gulp.

"Remember my fellow Habnabits, those who have patriarched and matriarched their own world, I thank you too."

Salrillian pauses, taking a deep breath.

"Goodbye Ferazel"

A small bunch of roses appears in his hand, and he tosses them on the Ferazel emblem in the middle of the floor or the small building.

"...but all those who are still loyal to the hero Ferazel, will serve onward"

Tears fill the eyes of Salrillian.
he reaches upwards, clasping the front of his hood, and removes it. His habnabit face revealed in the dim light.

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"Few people are capable of expressing with equanimity opinions which differ from the prejudices of their social environment. Most people are not even capable of forming such opinions."
Albert Einstein

The door creaks open as a weather beaten Habnabit drifts in to the room. he caries a bulging sack over his shoulder and a half-dissolved vorpal dirk in his belt. He doesn't attempt conversation, seeing as he is very tired, and all of the other inhabitants of the building seem quite depressed (and a few quite drunk).

One of the poppy seed muffins on the bar is soon in his hand and he congers up a tree stump and sits down, pulling a feather-fall orb out of his sack and remembers times long past as he sits and eats.

By the time he has finished his muffin, many tree stumps had come and gone. He then takes out a mist potion and throws the contents to the back of his mouth. As his crimson cloaked body slides to the floor, his spirit stashes the sack of orbs behind Ferazel's portrait. Then he simply drifts back into his body and sits on yet another stump and waits for one of the depressed figures to notice him.

As time ticks slowly by, the Habnabit comes to the realization that the minds of these beings are elsewhere, and may never come back, so he sleeps and dreams about the days of glory, long ago, when he had defeated his first Manditraki wizard, and his now dull and melted blade was sharp and gleaming with the blood of many creatures.