Post by jono on Aug 6, 2015 22:47:03 GMT -8
Anger. Rage. Fury.
Selena and Georgio both fled some time go, the spiriti knowing that leaving was a wiser course than staying near the necromancer when he was in such a mood.
Raphael scanned the deadlands, looking for a wraith to bear the brunt of his anger. None came into his line of sight. He snarled, his anger bubbling. His fangs bared, he slashed at the air as he paced. The cemetery felt emptier than normal. The night sky was filled with clouds, breaking the long heat streak and holding the potential of rain. Blessed rain.
Perhaps that would cool his rage.
A member of his family was threatened. Thrice the words were said. The intent was clear. In an older day, it would have been the clear right of the family to claim the life of the one who threatened one of ours. In these nights, his family was mocked and toyed with. Rules older than any living in this city were made into jests.
He took a pair of bolt-cutters out and used them to remove a lock from a small mausoleum. He took the broken thing and replaced it with a lock of the same make and model. Inside, he brushed aside the detritus that had gathered on the small bier. It was a child's grave from 100 years ago, with no sign of any other family. Perhaps they fell on hard times after burying their young one in such style.
He sat on the bier, resting his feet on the lip of the stone box. He had to think.
One of his kinsmen was afflicted by something. Another only recently climbed from death's cold grip. He had to make some kind of plan. Something to protect them all. Something to help them thrive here.
His rage burned down. Changing from a conflagration into a steady, quiet flame. He would guard their interests. He would see them flourish.
Hours later, before the dawn, he returned to their shared home. His exterior was calm. He had a plan.
Selena and Georgio both fled some time go, the spiriti knowing that leaving was a wiser course than staying near the necromancer when he was in such a mood.
Raphael scanned the deadlands, looking for a wraith to bear the brunt of his anger. None came into his line of sight. He snarled, his anger bubbling. His fangs bared, he slashed at the air as he paced. The cemetery felt emptier than normal. The night sky was filled with clouds, breaking the long heat streak and holding the potential of rain. Blessed rain.
Perhaps that would cool his rage.
A member of his family was threatened. Thrice the words were said. The intent was clear. In an older day, it would have been the clear right of the family to claim the life of the one who threatened one of ours. In these nights, his family was mocked and toyed with. Rules older than any living in this city were made into jests.
He took a pair of bolt-cutters out and used them to remove a lock from a small mausoleum. He took the broken thing and replaced it with a lock of the same make and model. Inside, he brushed aside the detritus that had gathered on the small bier. It was a child's grave from 100 years ago, with no sign of any other family. Perhaps they fell on hard times after burying their young one in such style.
He sat on the bier, resting his feet on the lip of the stone box. He had to think.
One of his kinsmen was afflicted by something. Another only recently climbed from death's cold grip. He had to make some kind of plan. Something to protect them all. Something to help them thrive here.
His rage burned down. Changing from a conflagration into a steady, quiet flame. He would guard their interests. He would see them flourish.
Hours later, before the dawn, he returned to their shared home. His exterior was calm. He had a plan.