.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
12-02-2012, 07:49 PM
While there had been obvious distrust amongst some of the members, it seemed everyone had decided to follow in the end. After all, if they did not, it wasn't as if the Steppe served them well anyways. The journey to the mountains had been mostly silent, everyone no doubt wondering what was to come, or where they were even going. For Crowley, he was excited to see where the Spark would lead them; anywhere was better than their previous residence. Soon, mountains came into view, and they were forced to scale a steep incline to conquer them. "Perfect," he thought to himself as his hooves pulled him up the path, a grin pulling at his lips, "It will be near impossible for anyone else to find us here." Once they had reached the heart of the land, the brindle came to a stop, yellowed eyes gazing across the land, drinking in what it had to offer. Unlike the Steppe, it offered sustinance, that of which was not dead for once, and a wide lake that seemed impervious to the cold. On top of all this, the basin itself was magnificent to behold, and land to truly be proud of. One that was all theirs, and would always remain so. After the God had vanished, Crowley turned his attention upon Psyche as she spoke, and a grin slowly twisted itself upon his face. "A lovely idea," he said in reply, and with that, the brute turned to do just that, uncaring if someone sought to follow him or not. He wanted to explore every nook and cranny, to know the exact layout of this new land before he could truly feel secure here. Not that they had any reason to worry... They were a strong bunch, and that strength would only grow as they continued to recruit new members, whether for the Plague or as petty lawn ornaments, so long as they could fight when needed. |
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
