Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180918031609

The man in gray looks at the tear, oh so far away from everything, yet so present at the same time, much like his minions. The rift seems to catch his eye, over a fallen Prad, all senses shut from the world around him from the wounds only now scarring down "Quite the punishment this parent is handing to its children. A civil war between undead yet rekindled. Or this one a new war? Perhaps, the undead named Barnabus spoke of this one's previous defeat. Are you here to wreak vengence on our own? Regardless..."

The gray one's minions take two steps forward and draw forth more of the Agony Gems. They hurl it all around the world from their lifeless plane, expulsing the gems from their plane to the current one. They shine with alien light, using the overwhelming numbers of invaders as decoy, their gleam dismissed.

"┴ɥǝʎ ɔɐll˙˙˙ʇɥǝʎ ɟoɹ ʇɥǝ snɹɹoƃɐʇǝ˙˙˙" one of the minion spout, sensing yet another portal, to which the gray man turns to them "Then remember. Fill the gap. The boy will follow"

From their fold, the Drifters flee, sprinting for the group which is to retreat, the gray one dissipating deeper in his fold. This moment is ripe for Prad's re-awakening. The first words to escape him are naught but pained grunts. The wounds assail him still, but their severity have lessened. To a degree.

His feet have just enough strength to start carrying him elsewhere, to the group's path. His eyes sprinkle a gleaming way, barely visible to him, invisible to all else. Slow and steady...