Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180602170509

Prad's body had been, for some time, slumbering against the rock he once sat on. In the dead silence of the night, he could hear the others' voices all too well "Campfire stories. Didn't know they had it in them...I wonder how is the metal man going..."

His neck cranes to his left flank, spotting said man dug down in a ditch in a conversation with a dreaded count "Ohh...". He turns away from the sight and searches his satchel bag, a piece of rounded bread out. The piece struggles pointlessly against the tearing of it, eaten away by the young man.