The ice eyes of a priest

[Ereaes]

His ice blue eyes look over the town he once defended as he walks the streets slowly, seeing new buildings and old. A large cloth item is strapped to his back, behind his white priests robe. A cold white and distant shadow he seems as the wind blows his robe about him. The night is dark and is pierced by his deep and booming voice.

So things have changed. We shall see for how long.

[Ereaes]

Discontent. Appearing in the citizens words, spoken aloud or in private. The town long past its glory years. The tall man with salt and pepper hair walks the streets slowly, watching every movement and listening to every spoken word that finds his ears.

The tall figure moves into the southern woods, a red skeleton rushing to meet his advancing stride. The battle is long between the two, taking more out of the older man than he could have imagined. With a roar of a shout, and powerful downward arc of his broad sword shattering the skeleton across the forest floor. The air is cold within his lungs as he takes deep breaths, attempting to slow his heart. Leaning against a tree his ice blue eyes wander, as they often did, to the heavens. A small and barely audible whisper escapes his lips, in the way of a curse and prayer.


"By the gods...im getting far too old for this sort of thing...My lord Malachin, give me strength."