"Rotunda, Weapon of Nald'thal. There is a task needed of you."
Malms upon malms away, on a tranquil stretch of forgotten coast, Rotunda Crow convulsed as he fell to his knees, sabatons sinking into the shoal as he drove a shaking fist through the wet sand into the soaked soil below. Jaws clenched as rotten teeth slid against and over one another. Shoulders locked with tension as a feral growl rolled up his throat.
Close. So close. More time. I need more time.
i'llkillyouisweartotheonetruegodiwillyoucan'tdothistomeyoucan't
In his mind's eye, Rotunda saw a pair of soot-black gauntlets rise up and snap shut around a thin, elegant neck, fingers fastening around the throat, the vice-like grip tightening as the man in black drove a battered, bloody husk of a duskwight to the floor. The soldier adjusted his grip, seized the Elezen by the hair, and held the head under the cool, icy waters of darkness. Words fell from lips in a steady cadence as the duskwight thrashed beneath the midlander.
I am Adin Adonis, Major Triarius, faithful son of Garlemald, loyal hand of the Empire. Fortune favors me, as it ever has. I will overthrow these chains and wrest control from these gods-fearing savages. I will return to my people. I will rise again. I will become Legatus. I will be Emperor. Discipline will yield the bloom of ages.
Rotunda shook as the fulcrum in his head returned to balance, as the scales tipped from chaos towards order. Aether surged through him once more, and he convulsed again... but he pushed himself back to his feet, shaking as he took one long, deep, shuddering breath of unlife. He licked his lips, then spoke to the chill winds of the Umbral Isles.
"Coin for Nald, Blood for Thal, and Glory to the Voice."
"Rotunda, Atrium's effectiveness has declined. As of this time, you are now First among Crows. During tomorrow's ritual, you are to do anything required to insure its completion. Should Atrium exhibit any sort of behavior you deem unworthy of a Crow, inform me immediately. If we cannot remove whatever is causing Atrium's decline, I shall destroy the body and send the souls to Nald'thal."
One soot-black gauntlet, drenched and covered with mud, clenched into a fist.
"The true god speaks and I hear. The Voice commands, and I obey."
For now.
Malms upon malms away, on a tranquil stretch of forgotten coast, Rotunda Crow convulsed as he fell to his knees, sabatons sinking into the shoal as he drove a shaking fist through the wet sand into the soaked soil below. Jaws clenched as rotten teeth slid against and over one another. Shoulders locked with tension as a feral growl rolled up his throat.
Close. So close. More time. I need more time.
i'llkillyouisweartotheonetruegodiwillyoucan'tdothistomeyoucan't
In his mind's eye, Rotunda saw a pair of soot-black gauntlets rise up and snap shut around a thin, elegant neck, fingers fastening around the throat, the vice-like grip tightening as the man in black drove a battered, bloody husk of a duskwight to the floor. The soldier adjusted his grip, seized the Elezen by the hair, and held the head under the cool, icy waters of darkness. Words fell from lips in a steady cadence as the duskwight thrashed beneath the midlander.
I am Adin Adonis, Major Triarius, faithful son of Garlemald, loyal hand of the Empire. Fortune favors me, as it ever has. I will overthrow these chains and wrest control from these gods-fearing savages. I will return to my people. I will rise again. I will become Legatus. I will be Emperor. Discipline will yield the bloom of ages.
Rotunda shook as the fulcrum in his head returned to balance, as the scales tipped from chaos towards order. Aether surged through him once more, and he convulsed again... but he pushed himself back to his feet, shaking as he took one long, deep, shuddering breath of unlife. He licked his lips, then spoke to the chill winds of the Umbral Isles.
"Coin for Nald, Blood for Thal, and Glory to the Voice."
"Rotunda, Atrium's effectiveness has declined. As of this time, you are now First among Crows. During tomorrow's ritual, you are to do anything required to insure its completion. Should Atrium exhibit any sort of behavior you deem unworthy of a Crow, inform me immediately. If we cannot remove whatever is causing Atrium's decline, I shall destroy the body and send the souls to Nald'thal."
One soot-black gauntlet, drenched and covered with mud, clenched into a fist.
"The true god speaks and I hear. The Voice commands, and I obey."
For now.
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
