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originally posted in: Prison of Exiles (RP - RoB)
6/19/2016 11:39:25 PM
1
It didn't take a long trek through the unfamiliar darkness of the tainted hallways before the Templar stumbled across another figure. Though unfamiliar, this one was not of chaos or disgust or desertion. It was... smaller, that the previous figure the Templar had previously yet justly slain. Far smaller in fact, and more frail, more slender even. It was a woman, lying down on her side, seemingly splayed out over the arcane flooring of the corridor as if practically thrown there like garbage. Her figure was fully garbed in robes and runic armour of deep black and weathered white, a pallet matching the black Templar's own protective attire, the cloth strewn over her in a messy disorganised fashion. She was breathing but unresponsive. Unconscious, clearly. But she didn't look injured, and there was no sign of any previous struggle; no blood, no puncture, no tears, no scratches, nothing. The dull throbbing lights that emitted from deep red stones embedded into her runic armour and helmet only confirmed the Templar's suspicions: Eldar. Craftworld Eldar, to be more precise. Most likely.
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