Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20180707010251

The strength was genuine, as if a hundred hands, a hundred arms folded into his own contributed to the carry. His feet ran with no tiredness, ignoring the weight added to his own body.

However, surely he must feel it. The gem beating in increasing velocity, prompting his own heart to match it. His instincts burn bright in his mind. The gem pulses in danger. Enemies nearby. Extremely nearby. This sensation overwhelms the gift. His arms and feet's silver were fading away in response, still adjusting to its new wearer. Whatever he wishes to do, he had better do it fast, before his strength fades from the newborn stress of danger close.

Prad, or whoever inhabitated his body, had since long resumed walking. He holds the gem the size of his fist forward, like a supposed light-giver. No words comes out of the man, though his eyes suggested communication. His prey, that had long escaped within the bowels of the dungeon, had seemingly lost priority in him. RIght now, the man walked each inch this desolate place had to offer, crystal in hand always.