Quoted By:
<span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-i">*CRACK*</span></span>
<span class="mu-i">“…Cain…”</span> You feel moist flecks of something splash across your cheek at the latest blow, and you do not imagine it was water. How much blood have you lost, how many new scars will join that of the lightning stigmata? You do not consider yourself a weak man by any measure, but even you cannot stifle a groan under this assault. God be good… How did Cain endure this, at such eager hands and in such greater frequency? How did a mere man survive such inflictions, and then bear his place upon the Cross for two entire days to starve and expire of thirst before the Dragon sought an audience? And why.
<span class="mu-r"><span class="mu-i">*CRACK*</span></span>
<span class="mu-i">“…Cain…”</span> You stumble up the stairs that leads to Cathagi’s sea wall, the salt in the air tinged the scent of iron in your mind. You gasp weakly, still expecting another lash of the whip even as you crawl the final stone steps. Your right arm is shaking uncontrollably, just now you notice the smear of blood against the wall where you leant for support in the final effort. <span class="mu-i">“…Cain…!”</span>
<span class="mu-r">You are <span class="mu-s">WOUNDED.</span></span>
By the time you reach the top you are on your hands and knees, crawling forward with a bloody-minded determination to finish what you started. The Knight Comitas Chapter Master Thomas Callahan waits for you personally, a bowl of ash in his left hand and the fingers of his right stretched out to you. It takes no effort to sink to your knees in front of him, but it does take a monumental feat of will to not over prone and slip into unconsciousness from there. Cold, hard stone has never looked so inviting.
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