Snippet #2112277

I'd stare down at Azrukhal, the Hellhound was on edge, alert. Something wasn't quite right about the area. It was a part of the city that had once been a park of sorts, and it showed in the space, covered in rubble that came from buildings that had been blocks away. Hmm.. Benefit of the doubt? I'd look about at the cue of destruction, devestation, mindless slaughter, and chaos. A desolate city of desolate souls, and a petty war over what's left of humanity. This boy, risky business, where did he fall into the way of things?

I'd look down where there was a bright pale scar spread jagged vertically along one of Azrukhal's ribs, where I had, pulled one ajar and nearly out. The Lord had healed him nicely. Smiling genuinley before returning my gaze back to the general direction of Darren, not quite trusting the air about him. It was strange, seeming as though I searched for Overlords in his very presence.

"I provided the miracle that saved his life, and it seems as though he considers there a debt to be repayed." My voice would carry on the word repayed. I'd look up at the darkening sky. "Be careful, Darren. The ruins carry whispers on the winds, and ambition in the ways of things." I'd speak with genuine care evident in my voice for the boy, and his kind, what ever kind that may be.

I'd lower my head and drop the stance, my exhausted body giving in to the pleasure of relaxation. I'd walk to Baziath and grab him by the wings, runny pale blood was sticky on my hands and dirty white feathers broke free, gliding along as I gently began pulling Baziath along. Azrukhal hung back as if unsure about the path ahead.