The Order of the Stick: Utterly Dwarfed
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  1. - Top - End - #211
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Henrietta

    Henrietta tensed up as Vesper initially spoke, then relaxed as Coty managed to defuse the situation. As the celedons stepped away from the door, she looked back to the others.

    "And not a damned moment too soon. Let's get out of here."


    Striding forward, she placed both hands against the door and began to push them open...
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  2. - Top - End - #212
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    ???

    Number Two paused to consider Vesper's question. "I...do not know. That is disconcerting."

    And then Henrietta opened the doors. The landscape outside the tomb appeared bathed in grim moonlight. Dead trees adorned pale, rolling hills, each of which was covered with gravestones that marched away to the dark horizon. The moon above was impossibly large and looked down as a glowering skull.


    Spoiler: Knowledge (Planes)
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    This is the Boneyard, the plane where souls who have died go to be judged and receive their eternal rewards.

    Spoiler: Bellas
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    The Boneyard, sometimes referred to as Purgatory, is a neutral plane where the souls of dead mortals from the Material Plane are judged by the goddess Pharasma. It rests atop Pharasma's Spire, jutting out from Axis into the Astral Plane. Souls are brought to the Boneyard by the River of Souls, and after judgement, are sent to the appropriate plane or domain in the Outer Sphere. Some arrive at the Boneyard with their choices already made or pacts signed, but others are judged by a series of courts.

    The Boneyard appears as a vast necropolis filled with countless courtyards, monuments, graves, and forums teeming with the souls of the dead awaiting judgement. Each of these courts is shaped and styled to correspond to one of the Outer Planes, and is overseen and guarded by representatives from each of the gods.

    The souls of the neutral dead remain in the Boneyard and are transformed in the lands beyond Pharasma's palace and the necropolis into aeons. These strange creatures act as the goddess' advisors, caretakers, explorers, guardians, guides, and even soldiers in times of war. The souls of the neutral dead also form into psychopomps who serve as the bureaucracy of death. In the unclaimed wilderness of Boneyard wolf-like packs of esoboks patrol, protecting the restful dead from both mortal and outsider intruders who would disturb them.

    Crypt dragons are born in the Boneyard, but often prefer to make their permanent lairs on the Material Plane and only return to the Boneyard to escort and represent especially favored souls.

    The God of the End Times, Groetus, hangs eternally over the Boneyard like a twisted moon that edges closer with each orbit. It is whispered that when he reaches the Spire, all of creation will be wiped away in a great apocalypse.


    Spoiler: Level Up
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    You may all level your characters up to Level 2.
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  3. - Top - End - #213
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Bellas

    The elf swore under her breath as she gazed upon the eerie landscape.

    "The Boneyard. Fantastic. I have to say, I don't feel dead. I don't know about you all, but I am not going to sit around and await my judgement." She spat the last word as though she was using a particularly profane swear.

    "If anyone has any bright ideas about how to get back to the Material Plane, now would be a great time to voice them..."
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  4. - Top - End - #214
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    "Yeeah, I'm a devout worshiper of Desna, so if I'm dead really should have been collected by now. I'm basically a cleric. I mean, I'm Chaotic Good! I've been tested!"

    More put-out than terrified by his predicament, the garishly dressed man fell to his knees and again laid out his Harrow cards on a spread scarf. This time, he prayed aloud. "Desna? 'alo, love! Me again. Vesper. Um. Bit of a situation. Um. Sort of on the wrong plane? There's an angry looking moon and everything feels a bit like a Penny Dreadful. Not at all sure how I got here. Also there are other people and you should help them too. So just... I mean if you could just give us a ride, that'd be lovely. I'm sure you're busy with loads of stuff. But maybe just point me in a direction where I won't get eaten by sexy vampires. Uh. I guess if I have to get eaten, sexy vampires is a good way to go. But, I'd rather have a way home, thanks. Thank you. How... are you?"
    Last edited by Nefarion Xid; 2019-04-19 at 09:55 PM.

  5. - Top - End - #215
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Boneyard

    "Oh, you aren't dead. Not yet, at any rate. We may be able to help you rectify your present circumstances, actually," said a disembodied voice. "Oh, excuse me. We forgot to make ourselves visible before speaking. I do so apologize." Materializing out of thin air was a looming black skeleton wrapped in the wings of a giant black raven. A vulture-like mask of polished ceramic gazed balefully from where its skull should be. Without a gesture, a wickedly curved scythe appeared in its elongated fingers. Upon the shoulder of the skeleton sat a strange songbird wearing a plaster mask.

    "Thoot, put that away. It won't be needed." The voice seemed to come from the raven.

    In a blink, the scythe was gone.

    "Oh, isn’t this a meeting of obvious fortuitousness! Here you are, and here we are. My name is Umble, and my silent companion here is named Thoot. We mean you no harm, despite the strange harmaments you seem to have already suffered. Yes, yes, this is the land of the dead, and no, you aren’t dead yourselves. You seem to be something of a special case—you seem a touch too vitalitinous for this place."

    The bird peered closely at the party, cocking her head to one side. "Ah, there is a wonderment! Your hearts have something lodged inside them. Something that’s brought you here, but kept you from doing so in the orthodoxiumous fashion. I cannot help but ruminate: what has caused your strange condition?"

    Spoiler: Umble and Thoot
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    Spoiler: Knowledge (Planes)
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    Spoiler: Henrietta, Vesper, Bellas, Gilbert
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    You identify the larger of the two figures as a Vanth Psychopomp. Stern, silent, and cloaked in ragged black wings, vanth psychopomps serve as stoic guardians of Purgatory and watchers along the routes of the dead. A vanth looks like a black skeleton with ravenlike wings and a mask resembling a vulture’s skull.

    Also known as reapers, angels of death, or amzranei, vanths protect the departed from those wishing to eat or steal their mortal souls, recapture escaped souls trying to flee their assigned fates, and are death’s foot soldiers against whatever would disrupt the natural cycle of mortality. They may also guard the dead and death’s assets, such as forgotten cemeteries, unattended mausoleums, and sacred groves.

    A vanth weighs 400 pounds and stands 8 feet tall, though its slumped posture means it can look most adult humanoids in the eye. Vanths are ancient creatures, perhaps predating the current gods of death, and are rumored to be ascended souls of a distant world of death-worshiping soldiers. They rarely speak or show emotion and their hollow voices carry unnaturally far. A vanth’s scythe is a badge of its station, reflecting its role as a harvester of souls. It features symbols in a language that was already lost when the death gods claimed Purgatory.

    Most outsiders scorn vanths, as the psychopomps have no concern for law, rightfulness, or personal gain—only duty. Vanths view any outsider visiting Purgatory as a potential threat, and stalk angels and demons alike.

    You know that vanths have several SLAs, such as at-will Greater Teleport and Invisibility, and possess a fear aura. They wield wicked adamantine scythes.

    Spoiler: Vesper, Bellas
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    The smaller of the two you identify as a Nosoi Psychopomp. Nosois eagerly fill the roles of clerks, scribes, and messengers in the bureaucracy of the hereafter. They record the circumstances of each mortal’s death, any judgments for and against its soul, and its final destination along the Outer Planes. But unlike more tireless, mechanical outsiders, nosois are also prone to powerful whims, boasting contests, and petty theft.

    Mortals recognize nosois in their roles as messengers, counselors of troubled or disbelieving dead, and guides along the River of Souls, and some ancient texts refer to them as scribe psychopomps, death’s messengers, and yanakeion.

    Many large and well-tended graveyards or catacombs play host to a nosoi who tends to the newly passed and keeps a watchful eye out for the looming taint of undeath. Nosois’ bodies take the form of mortal songbirds—usually crows, sparrows, and especially whippoorwills—though like all other psychopomps they wear graceful, elegant funerary masks that accentuate their sharp beaks and empty eyes. Many also craft decorative artificial tails from small bric-a-brac that trail behind them as they soar through the Boneyard.

    Nosois are typically measure about 1 foot in length, though their tails may double or triple that length. They are deceptively heavy, weighing between 10 and 15 pounds.

    Nosois possess at-will invisibility and the ability to shapeshift into ravens or songbirds.
    Last edited by Othniel; 2019-04-19 at 10:30 PM.
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  6. - Top - End - #216
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Henrietta

    Upon opening the doors, Henrietta looked beyond, and was struck dumb.

    The first thing she felt was an instinctual familiarity with the place, almost as if she had seen it in a dream. Then, as she took in the sights - the dead trees, the gravestone, the cathedral in the distance with that coiling spiral, that accursed grinning moon - she remembered the lessons of Maria, and it came to her.

    The Boneyard. The place where the dead went to be judged.

    Dropping to her knees, Henrietta began to laugh in a low and humorless tone, almost completely ignoring Vesper and Bellas.

    "So... this is it. I have to say, at least the process of getting here was painless. Is this your way of telling me off for not paying you the proper dues, Pharasma? Couldn't stand one of your own going into Shelyn's service instead of yours? I mean, it's not like I was trying to forget you. How could I?"

    Opening her hand, she found that Maria's holy symbol had somehow made its way into her palm, and she closed her fist around it again. Her eyes closed, and tears formed at the edges of her eyes.

    "You know, it's funny... I shouldn't be so broken over this. And yet, I am. What do I do, Eternal Rose? How do I deal with being dead?"


    Spoiler: And then, she heard voices ring out.
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    "Oh, you aren't dead. Not yet, at any rate. We may be able to help you rectify your present circumstances, actually," said a disembodied voice. "Oh, excuse me. We forgot to make ourselves visible before speaking. I do so apologize." Materializing out of thin air was a looming black skeleton wrapped in the wings of a giant black raven. A vulture-like mask of polished ceramic gazed balefully from where its skull should be. Without a gesture, a wickedly curved scythe appeared in its elongated fingers. Upon the shoulder of the skeleton sat a strange songbird wearing a plaster mask.

    "Thoot, put that away. It won't be needed." The voice seemed to come from the raven.

    In a blink, the scythe was gone.

    "Oh, isn’t this a meeting of obvious fortuitousness! Here you are, and here we are. My name is Umble, and my silent companion here is named Thoot. We mean you no harm, despite the strange harmaments you seem to have already suffered. Yes, yes, this is the land of the dead, and no, you aren’t dead yourselves. You seem to be something of a special case—you seem a touch too vitalitinous for this place."

    The bird peered closely at the party, cocking her head to one side. "Ah, there is a wonderment! Your hearts have something lodged inside them. Something that’s brought you here, but kept you from doing so in the orthodoxiumous fashion. I cannot help but ruminate: what has caused your strange condition?"

    Spoiler: Umble and Thoot
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    Blinking, Henrietta looked up at the two beings - psychopomps of some kind, clearly, given where they were. Slipping the holy symbol back into her pocket, she stood up and addressed them.

    "You tell us. We woke up not half an hour ago inside that tomb behind us, made our way out, and ran straight into you two. And... wait, we're still alive? How... And..."
    She stopped to think for a moment, considering the last thing they'd said. "There's something lodged in our hearts? Can you see what it is?" She looked back to the others, her gaze lingering on Coty and Vesper in particular. "Can you?"
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  7. - Top - End - #217
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Vesper squinted at the cards and frowned. "I died. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm fairly confident I died. It didn't exactly take. I'm not a disembodied soul. Clearly. Those two psychopomps aren't dragging me incorporeally kicking to my beatific reward. Pleased to make your acquaintance, by the way. I'm Vesper."

    He was politer with the raven and skeleton than he had been with his companions. "And I'm no petitioner. My clothes are here. Everything I typically carried. The only thing missing would be my pearl earring which I... take off to sleep. But I wouldn't sleep in my coat and boots either. Bugger..."

    Tutting to himself, he gathered up his cards once more. "As for what I feel in my heart? Um... lot of regrets. Lingering resentment for a particular druid. The smug satisfaction that when I solved the puzzle at the altar, Bellas smiled at me. Maybe the curry I had last night. Nothing particularly transcendent or illuminating apart from the mortal terror of having passed through the veil, but I've felt that way since I was 8. I think that's just anxiety."
    Last edited by Nefarion Xid; 2019-04-19 at 11:33 PM.

  8. - Top - End - #218
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Bellas blinked at Vesper's mention of her brief smile and the derision with which she had regarded the pair upon the ground dissolved even as she turned a wary eye to the pair of psychopomps.

    "Please don't try and tell me what's lodged in my heart is "courage" or "goodness", I have had my fill of nonsense for the day."

    Spoiler: ooc
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    I would like a sense motive on these two and also do I detect anything magical?
    Last edited by PepperP.; 2019-04-19 at 11:35 PM.
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Boneyard

    “Well, it’s right there for the seeing, if you can see into your own hearts," Umble said, responding to Henrietta. "A longitudinousness of your makeup. It’s ah... a bit of a tweak, you see. Let's call it an...obol. Yes, that word should do wonderfully.”

    "You see, an obol absorbs negative energy and makes you resistant to necromancy spells. It also infuses you with the power to cause more hurt to undead opponents. I am curious to see what use you can put this to. Should you make it back to the Material Plane, of course. That will take some doing!"

    "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Vesper," Umble dipped her beak in approximation of a bow.

    “As for how you got here? That is as much a mysteriosity to us as it is to you, I assure you. The customary route is one of considerably more post-mortality than you seem to have.”

    Spoiler: Obols
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    An obol harmlessly absorbs an amount of negative energy equal to double the character’s number of Hit Dice from any given source or attack (or each round, for ongoing environmental effects).

    An obol imparts spell resistance equal to 11 + the PC’s Hit Dice against all necromancy spells not cast by yourself. (This spell resistance cannot be voluntarily lowered, so the PCs may have a difficult time benefitting from spells such as false life.)

    An obol causes the PC’s natural and melee weapon attacks to be treated as magic, cold iron, and silver for the purposes of overcoming the damage reduction of undead opponents.
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  10. - Top - End - #220
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Cotyledon thanked the strange constructs one last time before finally leaving Roslar's tomb... only to discover the surreal landscape beyond.

    The Boneyard? This was not a place meant for her. She supposed the truly dead ghorans of the past likely found their way here... Souls bound for judgement that would not have existed were it not for the hubris of a mortal druid four millennia dead. She didn't even have bones.

    Coty had been dearly hoping for some sunlight; she could feel her chloroplasts' yearning. She had learned her lesson in past lives, however, and taken precautions for just such an event. Cotyledon began to glow, the holes in her flower petal face shining with a soft light. She had learned to redirect her body's innate magic into a form of light that would sustain her, yet another aspect of the odd self-sufficiency of her kind.

    Coty regarded the strange masked creatures with curiosity. "Well met, Umble and Thoot. Can you help us? If we are truly wayward souls, is it not your duty to guide us to where we belong?

    Spoiler: OOC
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    Coty will use her 1/day Daylight SLA from her Inner Light feat to keep herself from sun-starvation.

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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Henrietta

    Henrietta continued from where Coty left off, if in a much more brusque manner.

    "In all of the Boneyard, there's got to be at least one of Pharasma's own who can move between planes."


    She then belatedly remembered the whole 'social graces' thing.

    "Erm, also, name's Henrietta, by the way."
    Last edited by Lord Of Mantas; 2019-04-23 at 10:00 PM.
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  12. - Top - End - #222
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Gilbert looked on the landscape in awe. It was so much more beautiful than the old gravekeeper had described it to be. It was so serene in its finality.

    "Do we have to leave?"
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Boneyard

    "Ah, the Boneyard calls to you, young gravekeeper?" Umble said to Gilbert. "I do not believe it is your time, but...arrangements can be made if you do, in fact, wish to stay."

    The tall creature with the wings and jackal-skull head softly rapped Umble’s head just then, and pointed to the entrance to a nearby valley. “Ah, Thoot, now that is a brilliant idea!” exclaimed the gregarious bird. “You are from Roslar’s Coffer, and they are from Roslar’s Coffer. Perhaps you can help us? If so, we can provide you with some very helpful information about wending you in a homewardly direction.

    “Some awful tragedy befell this Roslar’s Coffer. Everyone there died quite suddenly overnight. Well, everyone but you, apparently, but in any case, the sum of the populatory has deposited here, dead or otherwise. Their souls are milling about in that valley over there. As happens on such calamitous occasions, the inhabitants aren’t quite ready to admit that they’ve died. Despite their obvious amortality.

    “Now, Thoot and I, we are not psychopomps in the greatest esteem. One might say we’re on our last chances around here. But because these souls have arrived in our territory, it’s our duty to make them accept their mortality and move them along in a soulwardly way. But they took one look at us, called us ‘monsters,’ and accosted us with homicidal intent. They wouldn’t allow any discussionment. Now, eventually, more powerful psychopomps will be along to settle this all out, but Thoot and I will be in a terrible amount of trouble in light of this failing. Here is our propositionality: if you convince these souls they’ve expired—as, until the recent event of their passing that you somehow avoided, you were among their kind—we can tell you about the Dead Roads: the roads from the Boneyard to mortal worlds, that is. Have we a deal?”
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Henrietta

    "We'd be fools if we said no."

    Henrietta turned back to the others, and Coty in particular.

    "That said, Coty should talk and I should stay in the back. I'm not... good at talking, and people kind of find me creepy."
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Tears, hot and angry, welled up from Kali's eyes. She had worked her whole life - and not a few hours at Roslar's Coffer - to keep people from coming here before their time. Her service was always temporary, her feats always washed away by time and a thousand causes of death, but to have the entire town snuffed out like a candle in a blizzard while she was still there stung nonetheless. And what could have caused such an extinction? All at once? Nothing good, that was for certain.

    Then Percival's hand landed on her shoulder and squeezed, the Eidolon would not cry, and looking up at his blurry armored, visage, Kali wiped at her own eyes. A brief nod from Percival was enough to re-center her. They'd had worse.

    Not much worse, mind.

    "So we'll speak to the dead."
    She forced cheer into her voice, mentally cataloguing what the psychopomps had said about their obols for later, "wouldn't that technically be the definition of necromancy? It's a little outside of my field, but I can give it a try. I'm told I'm likable."

    "You are?"

    "Of course I am!"
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Aside to Kali, "Do... do you want a hug? Or does your emotional support eidolon have that covered?"

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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Kali took a deep breath that turned into a sigh. "My entire protectorate just got killed. I won't turn down a hug."

    "Though, to be clear," Percival stated, glowing blue eyes swiveling to the magus, "this will be a chaste hug. Wandering hands will be confiscated."
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    "Honestly, what is it about my appearance that makes people assume I'm a lech? It's not as if I have a goatee." Vesper glanced to the elf, then gave Kali a long, completely chaste hug.

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    "Oh, no, he does that for everyone." Kali returned the hug enthusiastically. "It's great for discouraging unwanted suitors, but I have to dismiss him before a real date."
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Cotyledon, for her part, was very still, her strange petal-face inscrutable. After a moment she nodded to Henrietta.
    "I can try and speak with them. Although I was very new to the town; they will likely know some of you better. I am... sorry, for your loss."

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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Henrietta

    "Me... me as well."

    Not knowing how to articulate herself better, Henrietta shared her sympathies as best she could.
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  22. - Top - End - #232
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    The Boneyard

    "It isn't often such a large assemblage of mortals arrives en masse so," Umble observed. "Something extraditious must have happened upon the material plane to bring so many here at once."
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Bellas didn't quite sway on her feet, though she grew silent as the graveyard they stood in and her fair face grew even more pale. Occupied with the enormous wave of sudden loss, the elf missed Vesper's accusatory glance.

    "I must find my parents... maybe they'll know what happened to everybody." Her voice was hoarse and breathless, grief having already stolen the air from her lungs.
    Last edited by PepperP.; 2019-04-30 at 06:53 PM.
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Vesper shuffled sideways, towing Kali with him as he approached Bellas from the corner of her vision with an arm out. "Come on. You too, lady. Everyone gets chaste friend hugs. It's one of like... three things I'm actually good at, so just, just... there."

    He hadn't lost anyone. He hadn't even remembered the name of the town he'd stopped at until he'd been told just now. It was probably fair. No one was weeping for him either.

  25. - Top - End - #235
    Ogre in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Bellas watched Vesper approach as though not quite believing he'd actually put his arms around her. When he did, she stiffened briefly but she was too overwhelmed with emotion to resist for long. She folded herself into the crook of his free arm and buried her face into his shoulder, idly noting his height. She didn't cry against him, nothing so intimate but she stood against him for a long while as her grief consumed her. After a few long moments, she turned her head so that she could speak into his ear though she was not trying to be particularly quiet.

    "You know, if somebody had asked me to describe you, I might have recalled a goatee...."
    Quote Originally Posted by Kasanip View Post
    Somehow it is nostalgic to see the lewd discussion to return again to EMPIRE game.
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  26. - Top - End - #236
    Troll in the Playground
     
    Daemon

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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Cotyledon observed the others' flood of emotions, feeling relatively hollow herself. She had lost friends over the centuries, certainly. But the closest thing she had to family, her fellow ghorans back in the Mana Wastes, never truly died as long as there was a modicum of stability. The eternity of her plant-existence made the concept of bloodlines, direct ancestors, and sudden animal death more alien to her.

    But while it might have taken Coty several days standing in contemplative sunlight to process the whole of such a situation, Vesper was quick to dispense physical comfort. She had dismissed him as something of a fool, but her opinion of the strange man improved on the spot.

    She began to head in the direction the psychopomps had directed; the others would follow when they were ready. In the meantime, perhaps her own status as an outsider would help spearhead negotiations with the spirits of the recently deceased.

  27. - Top - End - #237
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    Othniel's Avatar

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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Valley of the Dead

    A small valley stretches out beyond the rocky pass. Winding stands of gray trees and tumbledown walls mirror the layout of Roslar’s Coffer, with simple trails in place of roads. Softly glowing figures—some of them with familiar faces—wander about, apparently practicing their daily routines. You can see a group of children playing not far off, running in and out of copses of dead trees. The mayor of Roslar's Coffer can be seen in the distance as well. The entire area seems laid out as if in mimicry of the real Roslar's Coffer, as if a ghost of the town was present as well.

    Spoiler: Knowledge (Planes): Henrietta, Vesper, Gilbert, Coty, Kali
    Show
    You recall a few old wives’ tales and children’s songs about the reaper walking the dead roads to bring the dying home; the details of these extraplanar paths—especially teaching mortals how to find them—are something psychopomps are loath to divulge.

    Spoiler: Knowledge (Roslar's Coffer Residents)
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    Those familiar with Roslar's coffer would know the mayor as Lady Mullana Grive, a practical and no-nonsense politician who has helped Roslar's Coffer survive hardship and rebuild by recognizing when she's in over her head and taking the sensible approach until the proper authorities stepped in.
    Last edited by Othniel; 2019-05-05 at 10:40 PM.
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  28. - Top - End - #238
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Gilbert

    A wide smile spread across Gilbert's crooked face. "Even the town came. Now I won't have to worry about getting homesick. Maybe my books are still in my room!"
    Quote Originally Posted by lt_murgen View Post
    Exploratory expeditions expeditiously expediting exploration would be epicurially equipped.
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  29. - Top - End - #239
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    Lord Of Mantas's Avatar

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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Henrietta

    "Book retrieval later. Get these people moving on first."
    Henrietta pointed toward the mayor. "Probably best to start with her. Get the chieftess on board with the idea and the rest will follow. Unless they don't. With our luck it could go either way."
    Last edited by Lord Of Mantas; 2019-05-06 at 12:56 AM.
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  30. - Top - End - #240
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    Default Re: Othniel's Tyrant's Grasp I

    Kali folded her hands behind her back, Percival following like an armored shadow. "It may not be that easy. Denial can be a powerful force."
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