Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160714040922/@comment-28358106-20160721035916

There is a flash and a hollow sound, a brief streak, and a concussion, followed by a fireball. The roar of the explosion is mingled with the shriek of the Herald as it crashes down, shaking the ground. The rumble dies off and the Dracolich is still. Praetor stands, the smoke of the launcher dissipating as the beam of light once again turns into his sword.

"Ahh. I was wondering when we would get to see any weapons of the lesser planes.  If that's the best you can do, Champion, I would spend more time on my knees at the altar, if I were you."

From a distance comes a man, an Order champion. Hound knows who he is, and Praetor has heard of him. Conrad Wulf. The unstoppable scourge of all Mamono.

"It's strange, isn't it?" He says, his sword on his shoulder. "Here we are, you and I, Champion and Avatar, at the behest of apparently the same Chief God.  And yet, I cannot help but wonder.  Why are you on that side," he points to the city with his sword, "When you should be over here?" He points to his battle lines behind him.

"I believe I know the answer.  You once said that you do not kneel to anyone who can be killed, for they are not worthy to kneel to.  Then, why is it you knelt before a dying Goddess?  Was it because she was already dying, and you were spared the humiliation of humility, or was it because you were willing to surrender even your 'morals' to gain your powers?  I don't think it's a question,  really.  Given that you are on the wrong side of this battle, I believe it is the latter."

He waves his hand at the Herald. "Oh, and before you try destroying an Undead, make sure you actually do it properly." The Herald stirs, and like a wretched miracle, it's decomposed flesh heals once again. The Herald stands up and turns, facing the trio, but it does not attack.

Conrad looks at Praetor. "And it seems as if part of your Holy aura remains.  Let's put it to good use, shall we?"

The Herald lurches forward, opening it's maw. Praetor feels the Aura taken from him, and his energy as well. The frigid feeling returns, wracking his body, until he is too weak to stand. He collapses to one knee.

The energy pulled by the Herald weaves its way through the air collecting in his sword. It glows with power, humming.

"Wonderful, isn't it?  Saves me from having to do all the work myself."