Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27550231-20170103080604/@comment-28358106-20170108022746

"Oh, but you are wrong..."

In a black blur, Victivius backhands Jorge. The Champion is sent flying, crashing through the rotten pews, where he rolls to a stop, lying on his back, looking up.

The hundreds of dark wives rise into the air, looking down at Jorge, laughing, mocking him like a murder of crows. Aidlis steps above him, looking down, leering, her aura crackling around her. Above their din, the Dark Lord's voice can be heard...

"I will have the sacrifice of misery, whether you wish it or not.  As you have sown, yet shall I reap, but from you, false Champion!  Your misery shall feed me!  Your cries of despair shall be a symphony to my infinite glory!  Run, run from the evils you have perpetrated upon those who trusted you!  Run home, and see there what awaits you!  Run home, Champion!  Run!  

Run!

Run!

Rhun!

Rhun

RHUN

Jorge awakens in an alleyway. His armor creaks, scuffed and dented. The chill of the night air has seeped into his body...