Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20181211225019/@comment-30014014-20181226023536

"I am not, although anyone could device this much." Host Prad clenches his glove hand, thereby collapsing the Current's rift under a grind of illusion and reality, a very metallic cacophony seeping out violently.

His eyes turn from curious to somewhat placid "Really? You cannot feel the age of my coming? One would think a walking corpse such as yourself would be able to scent an old one, especially considering you are one overdue to the grave like many rare individuals. Eons passed, like sand, one could summarize...but so be it..."

Host Prad quickly seeps to the ground, disappearing form sight. But for a moment only, for he returns, hitched to a tall glass of showcase, sitting upon it. His hunched form is a decidation to non-chalant poise. HIs eyes radiate with a poisonous malice.

"I am not one to hold trivial grudges like your kind. SO, it may come to no surprise that even in my ancient age, even a walker like I is not as old as you may be. I recall hearing about your true ancient age. Somewhere in the million or so. Rescind an oval number from the total and you get an approximation about my time on this plane. Then go beyond the first hundred-thousands and measure the weigh of my experience".

Host Prad then gestures ahead with two fingers "The world before the entirely of monsterkind started playing hypocrites, when they were feasting on my kin. When the gods tethered themselves to reality to do battle, thereby de-stabiizing the plane of existence itself. We called it the Circadian Eons. The very first spoke of the gods themselves, one where I was brought to this violent world, ended with the Exodus of the divinities..."