Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-27550231-20170522170711/@comment-27550231-20170524212705

Jorge stumbles back with a gasp as he looks into the endless void of the beings helm. He saw no face, no emotion, no will. Only a dark void that threatens to devour all who stood before it.

Tripping over a freshly rotten root Jorge falls over still grasping at his throat. His courage fails him, his reserves of stoicism depleted and his fighting spirit wavers. He tries to run away but he lacks the strength to stay standing and quickly falls again. He wants nothing to do with this place, he wants nothing to do with that dragon whore; so he does the only thing he has the strength to do. Jorge slowly inches backwards while grasping at his throat. Never taking his eyes off the two monsters before him.

His pride is difficult to swallow. He has never been known to be a coward. He has never ran from a fight but now he lay on his back slowly fleeing from himself. From what he could and still possibly be. Death.