ChrisCold

Staggering out into the wastes, Straude winced. Everything hurt, and he really meant everything. How he was still alive he didn't know. It made no sense. He was just some random thief, a footpad for hire. Little better than any other common criminal. So why was he still alive? Why he amidst his companions? Pompous and brave Fargus, the towering beacon of morality itself clad all in his armor. He'd been snapped in half by some rampaging monstrosity. So too had his two armsmen, falling alongside their master beneath the claws and within the jaws of the monstrosity. That had been the third floor. Fresh pain lanced through Straude's body as he recalled Cassandra's grisly death. The proud warrior had just saved Straude's sorry hide, hacking an animated statue to bits as he'd fiddled with the locking mechanism. She'd given him a careless grin and then exploded into so much blood pudding as the stone hammer of one of the statues had smashed her to bits right in front of