Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160714040922/@comment-28358106-20160722183907

Praetor concentrates. The Glyph energy goes to him willingly,  almost too easily. He holds it but a moment. Even with this miniscule amount he can feel its uninhibited purity, and it is easy to see its power. But, then he puts those thoughts from his mind. Then, following his will, it passes through Regina's reception gems and into the remaining children.

Almost as one, their bodies become bright again. But they do not move. Their breathing is steady, but shallow.

"Thanks be to the Holy Goddess," Melandil says, his ever steady voice shaken.

Regina looks up at Praetor. Her eyes fade for the final time, as her last breath leaves her body. Lucida buries her face in Aabi's shoulder.

"We must go," Melandil says, gently picking up Aegis. "We have no time.  They will be out of the capital soon, and the army will follow them, and then, Goddess protect us, the Herald.  We must get to Arenesse.  We must not stop now." Rhun and Nezon pick up Aurum, and Praetor lifts Ferra onto his back

"Papa is alive...I know he is..." Lucida holds on to one of Aabi's hands with two of her four.

And they begin the days long journey.

Silence follows the party as they leave. Thoughts haunt Praetor's mind as he puts one foot in front of the other, leading them down the road and through the countryside. If The Glyph was taken, why was Lucida unaffected? Why were Rhun and Nezon spared? His armor weighs him down, burdened by the weight of worldliness. The song that was ever in his ears, joyous and righteous, is now gone, replaced by hollow silence. Was Victivius right? If not, then the gods are surely gone, cut off from their believers. It is not difficult to imagine them dead, in the midst of such growing despair...

He keeps these thoughts to himself as he wades through the tall grasses, leaving a path for those behind him to follow.

________

Blood and ash.

Both scents familiar to Hound, and they greet him as he slowly rises, primordial and godlike, from the black, ashen sand.

His clothes are torn. He is battered, but unharmed. He looks around and knows he is no longer...

No, he does not know. He is alone. Ibrahim is not here. What is this place?

Black sand. Flat, bleak, unchanging. In every direction, as far as the eye can see. No dunes, no windswept peaks. Just black sand. The sky is dark and burned, like a dying coal on a winter's day.

Frustrated, he turns. And then he sees it... 

"...the Doctor's shadow has darkened the dim palaces, long locked away, spiraling and forbidden, even to the Gods..."

He holds for but a moment. And then he walks towards the distant, looming shadow...

-  End of Part One: The Dogs of War -

Next:

-  Part Two:  The Black Crucible  -