Snippet #2036064

An otherwise unremarkable patron entered the ancient hall, the stone walls and arches, despite their age and strength, seemed to buckle and bow in the slightest hints as he slowly stepped by - black boots polished to a sheen slithering from beneath the skirt of his onyx overcoat with each step. Row by row of pews passed by until the Scatterran reached the third from the first, nary a noise coming from his form as he moved to sit, white-gloved hands pinching the fiber visor of his cap to reveal a healthy head of Austran hair, parted professionally from years of practice.

Lightly did the cover find itself sitting in the man's lap, his left leg crossed with his right. A quick glance from one of the nearby holy men was soon silenced and sent back to its place with a cold glare, his hands concerned with drawing the cherry rosary from his mantel's breast pocket as he returned his gaze to what lay before him - an artifact of the time before. One of the many relics the churches so proudly held in the days before the Exodus, proof that God's Empire was once mighty.

Once powerful enough to rival his own.

Silently did his fingers rub the wooden beads, the gilded triangle hanging from the bottom of the cord jostling slightly with the effort.