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| The Frozen Death of Night; [P-GRP] Sanctus Ignis | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Wed Jan 4, 2012 7:45 pm (174 Views) | |
| Lazarus | Wed Jan 4, 2012 7:45 pm Post #1 |
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Midwinter was one of Lazarus' favorite seasons. Save the fact that he was caught in a snow storm and could barely feel his own body as he struggled along the narrow blanketed path. His glaive hung to his side with straps wrapping around his shoulders. His hair blended neatly with the incoming snow. His eyes though pale looked bight on the white backdrop. His cloak was tattered, yet neatly concealed his chest and back as he lacked armor. Lazarus saw ruins in the nearby distance and thought that it could be a wonderful place to set up camp for the night and wait out the storm. He found a small break in a wall which was big enough to sit two, or perhaps three average sized people. He lay his weapon in a crack so that it was extended partially across the break. He threw his cloak over his weapon to drape the entrance and keep the heat in as he started his fire. He slouched back as he considered the possibility of what these ruins represented. He had an uneasy feeling from the moment he first stepped foot within the area of the ruins. Lazarus was eating various food items he had with him as he sat and watched the fire flicker and crackle. "Ahh damn, I love Midwinter. But I hate the snow storms. Fighting is so rough in the snow that it almost makes me want to lay back and sleep." Of course he knew better than to sleep here. He could not disregard the odd feeling the ruins gave him. The feeling of something evil? Something dead? Uncertain of this he just sat and watched the fire until the moment of action arose. That or the storm ended. Either way Lazarus was prepared for the best or the worst outcome as he sat in his hollow wall and thought about how he was going to keep his fire alive all night. |
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6:58 PM Jul 11

