Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-26288702-20180412001357

The birds over head do not flee or disperse, instead they change patterns, moving in more sporadic ways. As the child gets closer to Praetor, Armata has seen enough.

“Her movements, limited speech, lack of emotion... and smell. That’s not Layoka.” Armata strides up to the small girl and extends his hand. It wraps around her throat and hoists her up off the ground. The child kicks and gasps, ineffectively hitting his arm to get free.

Suddenly the child bursts into mist and disappears from sight. Concealed by the blanket of fog.