Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160820182648/@comment-28358106-20160822001546

"He may not even know.  He may just be trying to get leverage against Victivius.  He may come after us, but his main focus will be on getting the Glyph.  That, plus the fact that we have the Codex, are our main advantages.  But Marcus is right.  We need to get going."

"I've got ta stay here with the rest of the lads.  I'll send ye off with the cannon and Dee will head up about a thousand men.  Shatterhand clan, every one of em.  They're a wall of steel that'll  fight like horny bears for ye." He grips Hound's hand, then embraces Ibrahim. "Gods speed ye, laddie.  If we don't see ye soon, we'll meet again in the Bright Halls." He smiles.

"We'll leave a high chair open for you, Bale," Melandil says, his eyes smiling.

"The Bright Halls, Bale." Ibrahim pats Bale and leaves with Lucida.

"Bye, Pa." Dee hugs her father, teary eyed, and the group leaves, heading north.

A thousand Dwarves, several hundred Rangers, Hound, Melandil, Ibrahim, Lucida, Praetor, and Aabi trek into the open country. The cannons are in tow, pulled by giant boars. Several hundred Dwarves on war boars skirt the column, watching into the dusk. The unnatural light brought by the Crucible permeates everything; the clouds themselves are glowing, causing everything to be lit and casting no shadow, but the light is not nearly enough to see well. It is a darkness that skirts the in between. It is a light that is constantly dying, never giving the release of night nor sun. At first, it is tolerable, but soon, it grates the eyes, and then the mind, as something that is there and yet should not be.  The column eventually breaks to rest, called by Ibrahim, who has the only functioning timepiece in the group.

Ibrahim sits, eating some bread, and Lucida beside him. She slides over to Hound and puts her arms around him.

"I'm really glad to see you, Uncle Marcus," she says. "I didn't say it before, because I was thinking about other things."