[center][h1][color=lightblue]丂刀のW 丂ｱﾑ尺尺のW[/color][/h1][/center]

Axley could get scary when she was angry.  He could already tell that she was utterly miffed.  But her willingness to help was what he did this for.  People helping people.  Its the only way Creation will survive this madness it had become.  He sighed happily, [color=lightblue]"Next pheasant that gets donated has your name written on it.  With you and the offered money, we could atleast get a roof over everyone's head."[/color]

Cilia put her physical stature to work, already going in and saving what was arguably the most valuable items in all the church.  The books themselves were all designed for teaching, through fiction and non fiction about the Blessed Isle, and Creation beyond.  It was a wonderful thing to read to the children that called the church home.  Give them visions and dreams of travel and wonder.  Cilia returned and he nodded.  [color=lightblue]"Good call."[/color]  He told her, though noticed her other items.  He knew those knives.  That was an interesting day.   He hated weapons but now... [color=lightblue]"No telling if the next place will be completely safe.  Hope we don't need them."[/color]

Fergus responded to his suggestion.  [color=lightblue]"Old foundries and a lot of soot...  Not exactly the cleanest area."[/color]  He tried to sound civil, but he was still disappointed.  The next statement did have Sparrow stroking his chin.  [color=lightblue]"The university?"[/color]  He hadn't considered that.  He listened intently, though his actions had slowed, as if to give Fergus the lead.  [color=lightblue]"I think... I think this just might work."[/color]

People helping people...  All will be well.

How wrong he was.

[hr]

He stopped when something became amiss.  His smile faded as he closed his eyes, to listen.  He heard a rumbling... he heard a cry.  He knew that sound.  That was a sound of battle.  He heard that sound on the Threshold.  It brought back chilling awful memories.  Then the explosions, the load gutteral moan that sent shelling through the sky, wisps into the air.  The ex-monk had seen horrors but these should be miles, thousands of miles away.  

It was a Holocaust.

He undid his backpack, ready to free himself to run.  [color=lightblue]"Run.  Run get yourselves out of th-"[/color]  Then three shells, they landed near, too near... [color=lightblue]"No..."[/color]  His eyes went wide as the world seemed to slow.  One of those... things.  It hit the church.  The silver wisps it wrung through the windows, out the door, a poor man vanishing into dust as the essence cascaded over him.  Snow stood stunned.  Tears filled his sapphire eyes, his hand fell over his mouth.  His heart and soul died.  He knew instantly, not a man woman or child in his home survived...

Fergus snapped him out of it as he looked back.  They could see it in his eyes.  Snow never cried.  This jolly man.  This happy hopeful man.  It was a look of utter anguish.  

A shame he couldn't just die there... No.  He was spared.  The dragons spared him.  He looked at the others. 
 Three people.  He could save at least these three.  He slung his pack over his shoulder and his legs moved, his arms outstretched to help Cilia, Axley, turn and run.  He'd try to save others... if he could.  They were priority.