Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-27550231-20180509050659

Praetor's grip loosens as his hand moves away from the gnarled dagger, his head rings as he let's it fall back onto the hard floor.

"It was not my pyromancy that blessed the blade or burned the Cathedral... My skills are surgical and lack flare hers- What is the point."

Once more his body locks up as he attempts to stand upright but he could find no strength to do so. He let his rage falter in the few moments he spoke with Armata. Raising his arms he spoke softly as if embarrassed to do so.

"Help me up would you? I can't seem to stand up at the moment. "