Some stories are becoming more and more lost to my memory…their details grow vague, while their pitched moments flash brilliantly in my mind.
For one reason or another Zaav Al’Craz commissioned a renowned painter to do a portrait of himself. It became a function of his days to sit for the painter each morning. As time went on, the fiscal opportunities the painter could potentially afford the nobleman began to present themselves. The man’s paintings were cheap now, but there were great mutterings of his brilliance and mastery, and if he were to die while a great number of the artworks were in Zaav’s possession…he could make quite a ‘killing’, as it were.