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A Shadows Dogma

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General Weaver remains in the barracks as the citizens of the Conclave offer their condolences
He takes a long drag from his cigar, then exhales the smoke out his nostrils.
Kalameet had not only been responsible for brining him into the guard,
but he had also promoted him to general when Elrolas proved incompetent,
and sheltered him in his time of need.

Up until this point, his plan were going smoothly.
The Conclave guard were become a formidable fighting force.
But with Kalameets demise, Poor Levrosier finds himself conflicted.


"On with the plan."
He reassures himself

"Los'iirae!"
Weaver called out to Neci, who had yet to fail him once.

"Would you track down our new Justicair. The game has changed.."

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What they say is true,

No mali mourns the Wicked,

While the sky is blue.

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Cole thinks about this. He passes some gas and thinks long and hard. Not coming to any conclusion he decides to eat carrots and go to sleep.

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Magnus murmurs. "What a harsh crowd... wee wooh..." Before walking off giggling. 

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Lelien stares at the grave. Her mind blank, the first time in a decade.

 

She blinks a few times. Her expression blank, as usual.

 

Turn and leave, all she could do before she entered her library room and sat on the bed,

 

To cry.

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A shadow upon the cast of midnights backdrop, dancing and weaving with no rhyme or reason. Upon the shoulders of a garish and a strange performer grimaces a head, as it reads a scrolling letter of grim remark. "Last, am I to be the last. I knew him as a child, I knew him as a adult. Alas poor Kalameet you are no more." his hand flickers and moves with fantastic gesture, shaking his fist at the sky. "For I won't go like a meek candles flame in the breeze of winter. I won't bow to the reaper who last laugh is last. For I'll fester and rot this world, for it shall die before I die!" Its head bending back letting out an echoing and cooing laugh.

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