NickTheButcher720

The Lament of Isac Saryl Isac walked, his heavy armor rattled with each step. His hinged armor allowed for a full range of motion at his shoulders, neck, and ankles if need be, and if he changed his form he would not be constricted there. But there had been no war here for many many years. Sharp, gnarly runic script was etched into his collar, chestpiece, and spaulders. The steel was black as soot underneath its silvery topical layer, but the markings were shiny like an old scar. As he made his way across the barren courtyard, past clutches of stone and spires of blackened wood, he lifted an eye to the sky and tried not to breathe. Abov