That he couldn't find the sun seemed a strange, unnerving thing to the man, and blue eyes rolled up to take in the impossibly large trees arcing up into nothingness and casting great, vaulting shadows. He searched for even just a pinprick of light but could find none.
The aged voice spoke again, from behind, and the matted, rusty hair atop the unearthed man's head shifted to reveal the high set, fur-covered ears of his race straining back as though anchoring to the words. It took several moments of shuddering breath before his still disoriented mind made sense of the questions, and when he finally did, he found nothing but silence in his own mind to answer.
The muscles along the man's back, thick and defined as one who put their shoulders to considerable work constantly, shivered and flexed as he brought his hands, still caked in their own grime, up to wipe at his face, spitting out lingering clumps of dirt lodged between his teeth. The taste they left behind was bitter at the back of his throat.
A voice? A name? Grimacing, the unearthed man rolled onto his back so that he stared up into the dizzyingly dense and dark canopy above and came to the second coherent realization since had come aware: He could only answer one of the two questions.
His tail twitched uselessly on the ground next to him as he worked his jaw and finally croaked out, "I don't... know," voice low and crackling like rocks grinding against one another. He coughed, spat out some more persistent grains of dirt, and strained the emptiness of his thoughts for anything, any sign, any sound. The effort left his skull pounding but came with the reward of a single note almost entirely engulfed by the shadows of the Shroud: "Thal... I think my name is Thal."
The aged voice spoke again, from behind, and the matted, rusty hair atop the unearthed man's head shifted to reveal the high set, fur-covered ears of his race straining back as though anchoring to the words. It took several moments of shuddering breath before his still disoriented mind made sense of the questions, and when he finally did, he found nothing but silence in his own mind to answer.
The muscles along the man's back, thick and defined as one who put their shoulders to considerable work constantly, shivered and flexed as he brought his hands, still caked in their own grime, up to wipe at his face, spitting out lingering clumps of dirt lodged between his teeth. The taste they left behind was bitter at the back of his throat.
A voice? A name? Grimacing, the unearthed man rolled onto his back so that he stared up into the dizzyingly dense and dark canopy above and came to the second coherent realization since had come aware: He could only answer one of the two questions.
His tail twitched uselessly on the ground next to him as he worked his jaw and finally croaked out, "I don't... know," voice low and crackling like rocks grinding against one another. He coughed, spat out some more persistent grains of dirt, and strained the emptiness of his thoughts for anything, any sign, any sound. The effort left his skull pounding but came with the reward of a single note almost entirely engulfed by the shadows of the Shroud: "Thal... I think my name is Thal."
![[Image: AntiThalSig.png]](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/179079766/AntiThalSig.png)
"Song dogs barking at the break of dawn, lightning pushes the edges of a thunderstorm; and these streets, quiet as a sleeping army, send their battered dreams to heaven."
Hipparion Tribe (Sagolii)Â - Â Antimony Jhanhi's Wiki
