Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180415184841

Prad's attention was still on the  condition of his arms that he was purging of lightning via applications of bandages when he heard the rattle from earth. His eyes move downward from the heavens, birefly tainted in purple. While he sees not the being under the miasma of the mist, his gaze lingers on its general direction.

"Ohh...must be that dreaded amalgamation of flesh and metal they spoke about..." he speaks quietly, even alone in the sky. The full scale of terror this thing i supposed to bring is set to the bak of his mind, his immediate attention given to his arms recovering from the requiem of his Transient Repeal as well as the summoning of his polluted spear. Once more, action was out of reach for him, rescinded to the mere act of observing above the skies.