The silver-haired heir sighed deeply, withdrawing his blade back into its scabbard. "If that's what all of you believe is best, then I won't argue against it," Raphael said to his allies.
"...If you intend to stay... your hand, do you expect to... carry her aboard like a piece of luggage?" then questioned a pained voice from behind the group, finding a cynical Telvern on the ground, leaning back on one of the platform's many wooden pillars. "Need I remind you... that we know nothing... of he who helms the ship?"
"What are you getting at?" Raphael then questioned, suspicious.
"Deny it as you will... but we were tasked with the slaughter of every person aboard this platform," the furtive genius went on, fighting back his ailment. "If we intend to spare her... and sink this platform, then we'd be required to carry her... aboard the ship. As it stands, we've little clue as to the identity of this Thaumas, his aims and whom... he is associated with. Our pardoning... would be a direct violation of the terms of our agreement, and if Thaumas bleeds for the Alverrian hivemind, then he would surely... notify Silas of our task's... unfulfillment."
"Ah, c'mon, egghead," lightly dismissed Calvin. "Ain't ya seen the guy? There ain't no way he's-a groupie 'n Silas's gang."
"But it does stand as a possibility," thought Malik, crossing his arms as he pondered. The group conversed feverishly, trying to solve this dilemma birthed by Telvern. A crisis, a conflict of conscience and logic. Some saw the point he was getting at, while others soundly rejected its very nature.
Yet all the while, the spellsword Kellyn slyly looked down upon her bindings. A simple wrapping of rope, easily enough to tear through if her fingers have free movement. She managed to place whatever finger she could upon the rope, its tattered hide beginning to smolder and burn. Her magic easily burned through her entanglement, freeing her from their binds.
The end
is only
the beginning...
17-Mar-2017 20:50:40
- Last edited on
17-Mar-2017 20:51:06
by
Serene End