[center][h3]~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Olivaster Wrathmont ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ [/h3][/center]
[center][b]MARCHING ORDERS ; ROAD TO NUBINA - 19TH DAY, NIGHT[/b][/center]
His shoulders heaved with slow deep breaths taken while crouched amongst the remnants of the fallen, both friend and foe. While his wounds were merely superficial many others were not so lucky. Olivaster clung to his staff. It was all he could do not to fall over. His knees were weak, wobbling as he stood up. His robes had become dirty and torn from combat, stained with the ichor of the fallen undead and the unfortunate misgivings of some of his allies that had fallen. It was nothing he could not mend with some simple tricks of prestidigitation. 

Olivaster surveyed the area. A massacre to say the least. While they had survived the undying onslaught the number of casualties were far too many for his liking. It would make his mission that much harder. Upon further surveillance the mage would come to take note that individuals were more or less keeping their distance. The normal warriors fear of his magical prowess was typical, common enough that Olivaster had dealt with it regularly However, it wasn’t any less maddening. He would never understand. They would never understand. 

Carefully, Olivaster meandered through the undying waste. His staff pushing aside the dead to find the more solid ground beneath. His feet shuffled along. His body was obviously fatigued. Those fools. They clung so closely to his strength in combat yet now they vanish in fear of repercussion from their weaker gods, children of the old. Inferior beings. Soon the time would come to pass that they would bow at his feet or fall to the power of his Goddess. 

[b]“Nia atara, uma il- miula lle sakkata ten' amin. Sangana i' souls en' lle hini. Sana sen tuulo' sina meanien ar' grant sen val a' amin. Ten' amin naa chosen ar' ta naa amin ya brien e' i' era en' lle harna. Nia atara, uma il- miula lle sakkata ten' amin.”[/b]

His prayer cae in but a whisper. Hidden away from the prying ears of those who failed to understand. His new destination would be a short distance away. He noticed a small fire burning off in the distance. Perhaps the last encampment for those who had managed to survive as well. With a deep breath he moved alone. Always towards the first.
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