Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-30014014-20181120024256

Prad's heart collapse, hearing of this "G-g-grass? B-bbut--

"They stray from the vegetarian's path? Is that the anchor you to cling to, lamb? Vampires avoid anything devoid of flesh? Werewolves don't consume the inert alternative? It's a good thought indeed. Unfortunately..."

The man in the wall shifts to a sitting pose, directly over Prad, while not so. His riven mask projects the violet strife in his shades onto the young man "You cannot tell me you have forgotten the poor old man pretending to rush to your side, can you, lamb? He feasts on the grass. His fellow feeasts on the grass. And in exchange, the cadavers feast on them. Do they notice? Perhaps, perhaps not. Does it matter? Not at this point. Look at you, marinating in their 'care'. They rejoice. An injured, powerless lamb like you, bound to their nursery. A befitting sacrifice to make of you, as to avoid one of them spilling his...or her blood on the land. First fed to the vampires. The rest, left to be devoured by the earth..."

Prad's panic takes hold, pushing a distressed shriek blotted by his own hand. Tears fall down his cheeks, unnerved at the prospect of becoming a sacrifice. As he was, he was useless. Powerless. Fearful. If they were going for a harvest, what could he do? The man in the wall seemed none on lending a hand. His sentence, yet unfufilled.

Prad shakes like a man dipped in shivering water, his eyes turned to the window. A glare the man in the wall is quick to see "How the proverbial window? In this case, literal. A sound stratagem. But look at you. You're weak, frail. Would you survive? Or not? Does it matter? There is freedom in choosing you own death..."