Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160903233916/@comment-25808351-20160906021350

My eyes shift to Praetor as he leaves, before answering Armata. I say nothing to Praetor, for soldiers like us don't need to exchange words, actions of bravery and loyalty always resonate louder than any voice. As Praetor leaves with his maids, I pull out my last cigar, my last "Whitemarch special", I place the unhealthy treat between my teeth as I strike a match on the soul of my boot. The world seems to slow as I bring the flame to it. Small puffs of smoke rise as I feed the flame and scorch the tobacco. With it properly lit, I flick the match away and take a long drag of the cigar, savoring it's flavor and basking in a job well done. Wind blows my coat and Armata's cloak trails even further in the refreshing breeze.

"This job couldn't have been accomplished without the help of all involved. We, did well." I say, some what muffled from the cigar between my lips. Armata smirks and transforms into a cloud of crimson fire and smoke, it rises off the ground and zips high above, I watch as it darts across the sky. It zigzags back and forth, until the Vampire is out of sight. I whistle and a familiar face comes trotting up. My horse pokes my face with his nose and I let out a chuckle. "Hey Schatten, I missed you, my friend." The horse dose small grunt before rubbing his mane to my face. Giving him a few strong pays to his side, I hoist myself on to the saddle and look over Doc's family one last time.

It feels right, it feels certain. At long last, Ibrahim has what he fought so hard for, his happiness. I puff my cigar again and turn my horse north. I trot over the hill out of sight, sun beating on my face and the wind through my hair. A small tear rolls down my cheek, for all bodies that lay buried in time and the back of my subconscious, I know I at least helped one man find peace. I only hope he knows, despite it all, he can always rely on the help of the War Dog.