[center][h2]Veharr[/h2][/center]
[center][h3]Wastes[/h3][/center]

Sand had fallen over the pathways of those fleeing war; he was thankful for that. He tightened a cloth around his face and moved it underneath his cloak, tucking it in so it would hopefully stay in place. Within his hands, he carried a long knotted branch that acted as a staff, something more suited for this journey as it gave more surface area than his usual walking stick. It helped him move, not that it kept him up, in his age, he didn't need that much, but it did keep the sand from overcoming him when it was getting out of hand. He was thankful for that, having to travel from his home more and more, from the safety of the mountain home. It was a lonely mountain, there were several nearby, and it once sat upon ancient borders. But it would be safe; they were old mountains, and a few days without him there would be fine. He hoped the sand and the runes he created would conceal his flock from all but the strongest of psykers. It should last until he arrives back; if not, the sand was a good way to elude all but those with luck upon their side. 

Vaharr pulled a small mask down just a tad as he began to survey the endless tides of sand in front of him. He pulled out his telescopic glass and placed it over his walking stick for stability. He smiled as he didn't need it but enjoyed using the old device. He scanned the horizon end to end without seeing much. But he saw the clouds of war off in the distance, and it was a revolting sight, in his opinion. The powers used he saw like stars in the sky, and it blinded him with the sorcery used. He held onto the staff as he coughed up bile. It made him nauseous, and he felt hate rise in the bowels of his stomach as he closed the glass and tucked it into his robes again. He spits out the rest of the bile that clung to the inside of his throat and cheeks before pulling up the cloak around him. He pulled the cloth around him again to tighten it, and he stared out as he pulled goggles low to cover his eyes. Then another cloth to keep the sun from glinting off of them and to keep the light from his eyes. 

"Guide me... I shall save as many as I can for your service... send me a sign savior of mankind, and you shall have a hundred to rebuild in your name... Send me a village, and I shall give you a city, great one..." he whispered in chorus with faith, "Send me in the direction of a soul, and you shall have a thousand. This one who travels these lands shall bring all who come to your flock back into your light Khader savior of my soul, Great Emperor, and slayer of the ancient god. I shall try to return all that you have given me since I have walked the sands of this world."