« Last post by EchoMirage on Yesterday at 03:32:28 PM »
"So much for training exercise."
Echo was still frankly pissed at himself. Properly and deeply so. Exhausted, the priestess had fallen face down into the blankets the day before, when Silveressa discussed the matters of the cursed cleaver with Mystic.
Though of limited clinical experience, Echo would have recognized the signs of an addict - albeit a magical one - who was about to abscond to have another fix. After all, magical or chemical, these things pulled the same strings in the human brain. He would not have given Mystic the benefit of the doubt, and would have knocked him senseless with magic if need be, just to sink the cursed blade in the mire.
Wrath had welled up within, walking well-trod paths, ready to question Silver's judgment, Carly's nursing skills, and the wits of the rest. Alas, wrath had cost him so much so often, and he instead simmered down, spouting a stream of very Slavic curses at no one in particular.
Desiring to get something done, and well aware of their less than silent approach, the priestess strolled inside the monastery, shield and weapon raised, calling to potential survivors: "Come out. We are not your enemies. If you have any wounded, we can help!"