Snippet #2778842

Ash had done it, just came out and said what they were after. Syra couldn't blame him, the Witch seemed to enjoy extending their visit, and as the smell of blood and visceral mixed in with the thick air produced by the forge, Syra felt herself become sick. The shorter their visit the better. The cannon that had brought them all together would soon be a mere memory once the Knights took it off-world, but for now, she knew they were some of the few that stood between the salvation and the utter destruction of The Rock. While it may not and never would be home, it still mattered at the end of the day. She'd spent years toiling in the sands, and though she did so at the beck and call of a warlord and his followers, she couldn't simply wish the world away.

To her, this world needed to remain, a constant reminder that life can be terrible, and you can go through terrible things and still somehow find the way out. These people she was with were important, they carried weight in the grand scheme of things, she was simply a support role, but that meant she couldn't afford to let them all down.

With a deep breath, she drew a discarded set of daggers from the pile of treasure beside her and stood beside Ash, "It won't do well to lie to us. There are people waiting to glass this entire planet if we don't get them those bullets. Make the right call and hand them and Arubak's ring over to us and we will be on our way, and you will be free to continue your existence here underground with your useless riches and vile followers."