[i]The Hoarse Man watched the flames on stage, their reflection visible in his eyes. He listened intently and turned on his heel to face her, the boot scraping on the ground as he did so. A name had floated into his thoughts, his own name.[/i] "Iberhim, 'Flame of the Desert' in your tongue. A humble name, it carries not much unlike yours." [i]Iberhim had told the Trayven with crossed legs, his right hand sticking out and his left over his heart as he bowed.[/i] "I too suffer from being 'out of the loop' as you call it. Being buried alive and arising in an unfamiliar locale does that to one." [i]He spoke with honesty, caring not to hide much. The man gripped his scepter as he turned once more to face the charred criminals.[/i] "I do not pity those people, the punishment is just. Tell me Madam, why do you carry a name of what I can presume to be great power here, yet you are stuck in a wheelchair not fit for one such as yourself? I believe you deserve to get something more comfortable at the very least."