Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160311230436/@comment-5543592-20160316222647

"...because I guess that's where the unlucky people go when they bite it.  Unlucky beacuse they bit it, for clarification."

Crimson stood over a pile of freshly dug dirt that had been packed back down into a little mound, a red leather-bound book in his hands. It was unclear if he was actually reading from it or not.

One of his mercs, who Nissa could identify as the one with the patchy hair, scarred face, and large arms, sat on the ground nearby, with a rusty shovel resting across his lap. His red uniform looked particularly sweaty.

A second mercenary, the one with close cropped hair and a tan, handsome face stood nearby, his head bowed respectfully.

"Yeah, 'cause I think Aetherius is nice, if you think about it.  Like, imagine the stuff gods get drunk on.  Maybe you appropriate some of that, huh?"