Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27550231-20170522170711/@comment-28358106-20170524232313

Aidlis laughs slowly.

''Oh, how the mighty have fallen! The once mighty Champion, now stumbling blindly forward. No guiding light to shine on him, no withered goddess to save him. Abandoned at the first sign of her displeasure. ''

She stops a short distance from him. ''The Saint of Sorrow does not abandon His own. He would have embraced you, called you brother. His darkness would have been your mantle, His Word your armor, His Will your sword. You would have been unstoppable. Indomitable. Immortal. Not a resurrected marionette of meat and misery.''

The Black Knight dismounts and begins walking forward. Aidlis puts a clawed hand to her face in mock sorrow, tilting her head.

''And you could have saved your family! Oh, such a pity...so terribly sad. Instead, the very ones who worship your dying goddess slew them, one by one. That was your reward. That is the gift your goddess allows you. To lead her followers to them, you may as well have slain them yourself...''

Jorge looks up and sees Rhun. She is drying her hands on a towel made from her own body.

Rhun smiles at the Knight as he advances towards her.

"Welcome home, master.  I didn't think you would be out so late.  What kept you from..."

Rhun's face freezes in confusion as she looks down. The Knight has unsheathed his sword. It shines like the moon against the sky as he steps forward.

"...Jorge?  What are you doing...?"