Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20191120203148/@comment-30014014-20191231022940

Alone...

Frightened...

Isolated...

They stay, weakened by the searing gems, thw wounds brought about by the machines. Their fates, uncertain...until...

Zeba...

A man standing before a cell containing an injured citizen. A woman. A mamono.

The cries of the maddened knowledge,

To bleeding hearts, they echo.

His head, hidden, encased in armor. A cross befits the helm's front.

His entire person, concealed by metal and apathy. He points to her, sealing the fate via his arm of darkness. A Thousand hands. A cursed end. Neverend...