[color=c0c0c0]"I do not want to entertain the thought of being trapped in a building,"[/color]

Vengeance reflexively coursed through the paladin’s heart, yearning to betray its rational penitentiary. She appeared to be weary of betrayal amongst those of shared company. Her four angelic chambers ionotropically pumping in disyllabic synchrony, emitting Templar blood to feed the arteries of jealous revenge and the veins of spiteful reprisal. Wick’s intention was no obvious act of treason, but to only separate the warped anguish prowling the wretched evening by an impenetrable floating ring, to slightly reinforce a cage of safety against any peripheral intrusion. The shadows were spirits steeped in blackened brew, doused in gloom incarnate. These pariahs of torment and torture seemingly and obsessively sought out other souls, only to extinguish the light within them. 

[i]Yet, supposedly not forever.[/i]

[b]“That’s bad! Don't you know things come back to life around here?"[/b]

The reborn sage pondered such a hypnopompic derision. The gems would flourish once more, but by what spark. 

[i]Time? Light? Word?[/i]

His fear suggested no apparent, simple method of destroying such mystical restraints. The gnome’s visible apprehension exalted far beyond what he relished outwardly earlier in battle. The cleric sustained her ritual’s chant, lingering upon the avian carnival confined within the peculiar ornaments. 

[color=ec008c]“Stray not outside into sin, brethren, lest you face the night of an insatiable tomb. Do not fret. The tightrope shoulders either a foot of security or a sole of incarceration, which pangs under such a schismatic burden. Once I relocate, the discus easily follows thus.”[/color] 

The reincarnated warlock trusted that this response would assuage Thea and any others questioning her aim for a barricade.

[color=ec008c]“For these stones, I advise we coop them under the guise of glass and soil. Birbin! A cork and empty bottle, please, if you do not dissent. Let us bury the birds.”[/color]