Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180829045657

The sky had since long died, having scattered the clouds away. Well...the remnants, anyway. Deep into the woods, far from the group as to garner no attention, Prad's breathing comes to a crawl. HIs body lays among dead leaves.

The last time lightning struck this close, his hand paid the price for his words. Now, his shroud lays torn, galvanized. Though the electrisation is muchless severe compared to the previous, considering its weakened power.

"You make use of one of our deepest instincts of preservation...flight..." the voice of the gray one rides from his distance, sealed by a gap. Prad can barely afford turning head to face the man.

"You now see the futility of your act. Before your life string was cut by an old one. And fled" he continues, his tone drafting the sense of right.

"What will you do now, surrogate? Your power is drained, and your body cannot afford more injury" Prad can barely muster the will to talk, let alone the wish to do so. He did warn him. His instinct of fear kept him from the monsters. From danger. Yet, he was poisoned with the promise of unity. This had almost cost his life. The man in between can see it in his eyes.

"You have learned, that is what counts...as my anchor, I wish for you to live still, in this plane. This impending battle among the demented family. It has attracted my attention. Therefore, you will remain here..."

Prad feebly turns to the sound of fire and steel. Words lost in the drifting wind. Worries. The orchid empyrean feeds his body, starting from his feet. The man in between has his gray hand, clad in steel, posted upon the young man's head, akin to a father re-assuring a sobbering child "YOu have no need to stand amidst those animals anymore. My eyes need but gaze. Others will fill the rank of soldier for you..."

The man's appearance, so far, but close as well, for a second. This act distracts Prad from the regurgitating earth in twins. Hands grasp outward, bound in shackles and black belts. Bodies jet upward, ragged, coated in armor. The bleed blackness. Eyes and maws, bound by blindfolds.

They move toward Prad's idle body, driven by the empyrean ambient fueling his aura. Blades scatter from both arms, mounted to gauntlets. They cradle a knee on the earth, silent like the mound tht fell dead from which they burst.

The man in between fades away, just as Prad's voice resonates within them, like a lord to his followers "Go. Go and seek the old entity that now walks this land. You fill the gap that the rotting ones cannot. Those that congress against his will. Fill the gap between their cohegraphies".

His hand is risen toward the violence, making little of the injuries. The two unamed go forth, rattling eerie silence with the colorless armor. Blades drift between his world and another, signatured by their fleeting presence, garbed in orchid power.

And now, they wait. Between the higher vampires' attacks, they wait. Always at the ready, but drafted in darkness deeper than even a nocture creature's line of sight, even in plain sight. Present, yet distant. Ever shifting...