Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160726175355/@comment-28358106-20160801170339

Praetor thinks about the rocket,  about what he had used against the Herald before. He tries to form his weapon...and then his stomach drops.

It won't transform. It won't respond. Then he remembers the shockwave, the blast that wiped out his magic, and everyone else's. What could he do?

He looks at Lucida as she has her mental conversation with Aabi. Perhaps she could make one, using her magic and forming it for him with his weapon...no, that was absurd. Was it? He couldn't form it on his own. He would have to tell her what one was...how could he describe it?

"No, I'm not okay. I'm terrified..."

Lucida's little body shakes inside the living armor. "Look at it, Aabi.  It's huge.  How are we going to..."

The thunder from the drill hitting the ground interrupts her. She puts her hands over the sides of her helmet instinctively, even though it does no good.

"I'm sorry, Aabi!  I'm sorry I'm making you do this for me.  You shouldn't have to do this for me.  I'm glad you're here, right by me.  There's nobody I'd rather have, except Papa.  But..."

The drill cuts her off again.

While he is lost in thought, Praetor is interrupted by Melandil creeping up to him, keeping close to the ground.

"We have a...problem," he says, his voice low. "The Herald is here."