Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180511050350

Prad watches the enemies depart in haste once more. His eye display relief, but it also convey something else. While able to breath more normally, he feels like time has been lost. His teeth grind a bit against each other, his hand holding the dagger restless. His brows burrow in scorn.

"Of course they depart with no more..." he catches himself speaking in a low pitch long before realizing what he just said. He looks at his dagger, rattling in disappointment. Disappointment. The feeling slowly creeping up his spine. His idle hands while everyone else went to business. The sentiment plaguing him as much as his dagger's resentment.

Resigned, Prad puts the dagger, still loaded with its deadly charge, on his belt, burrowed under his shroud. He turns to Praetor, being helped up. A cumulation of his idleness, forcing the giant to act for the two of them. He turns his eyes away for a moment...