Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-25808351-20180924003115

Armata leads the group back through the run down mansion. Cob webs shift and old drapes sway wind blows through the skeleton of the old corpse of a house. As Jorge passes a bookshelf, a bushel of rotten books drop before his feet.

Despite them being old tomes of knowledge, all could feel the books were calling for use. They desired to be read, their knowledge passed on as if it was a duty. Armata stepped over the books lifelessly. He had lost all he held dear, now he He makes moves on purpose alone.

As the group reached the transportation chamber, Barnabus spoke.

“Will you return? Will you fight this monster?....”

I will return. Pramool will not advance uncontended. My obligations will not have it.” Armata drives his hand into the obilisk, his blood flows and generates it’s old gears. As a portal between realms opens, Barnabus waves all a goodbye.