Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180627235621

His walk, methodical. Machinations of old, ripe. The bleeding hand since long scourged by the heat inhabiting it. Cell by cell, he sees nothing, the glow he once emitated as dark as the surrounding.

And yet, he speaks naught. He sighs naught. He gazed with the patience of an old veteran. He knows they stir across the derelict. The distant rattle of battle eluded by his ears. His March continues forward, now halted to the casual.walk a guard might have have repeated so long ago.