Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-25808351-20180711223206

(BT/Doc) “Leave?” Barnabus comes into view of the group, wiping blood from his lips. “None of you can leave yet. Did you forget what has been set into motion, Pramool’s reawakening. If you all depart now, there is no chance to avert this, he will rise with the hatred and bloodlust born from thousands of years of captivity. He will scorch every inch of this world. Every structure and every life, no matter how small will be trampled by him!”

Barnabus looks to the group with utter sincerity.

“Please. I understand you are foreign to this world and wish to return to your own, but you-“ Barnabus is halts his speech as the rocks atop Marcus shift. The visible hand grips a stone in it’s palm, crushing it outright with zero difficulty. Cobalt flames begin sprout and surface from the pile of rubble. The flames smolder and part, but soon turn to a raging inferno as Marcus rises from the pile of stone.

Nothing but a growl escapes him, as his glowing irises set upon Jorge. One step, then two, Marcus removes himself from the pile and approaches the group. His fists clenched tight, his canine like teeth even more.

“He is.... persistent.” Barnabus looks at the other group members.

“Yes, very.” Armata sneers. Acheron soon rejoins the group. In his smoke form he returns to the group and reforms.

“Apologies for my tardiness. The Lesser hoards were vast.... and hungry.” He shifts his blades forward toward Marcus who approaches the group encased in his signature flames.

It isn’t long though, before a voice can be heard over the harrowing winds. “Kill them, kill all but the Anathema. You, are Pramool’s last sword in this fight for resurgence. Do not fail, do not hesitate. Batter them, tear them, break them.” The voice fall silent, but then returns.

“Werewolves sleep beneath the trees. Harpys sway in the breeze. Your souls lay down, wide awake. Fearing the monster your way. And in the silence of the night, tear drops fall as daylight dies. For your souls lay down wide awake.... For The Destroyer, fierce and cold, paid in silver and gold.... He’ll crush and slice, he’ll chop and dice, he’ll eat your souls.... Eat your souls.” The voice fades, all that is left is the churning, fluttering sound of Marcus’ flames, his growl clad within it.

But within the eyes of some, Marcus is no longer human. He stands before them, a giant dog. Fur black as the void, teeth razor sharp, and aura foul with evil.