pray for the wicked on the weekend [agria]

Autumn came with a delectable aroma in the air. That infernal woman tempted the beast with every movement, knowing full well that she was in season. Cruelty at its finest, truly. Chorded musculature coiled beneath thickening derma as the sandy godling strode deeper into the embrace of the Forgotten Isle. A thick blanket of fog left it dark, the early morning sun without hope of getting through. Dew beaded upon shaggy hairs, still coarse from the abuse of salt water.

Pale paws thumped heedlessly over battered asphalt, the remnants of a road now underfoot. They hadn't come here yet, in their travels. There was hope for distraction, in performing their duties to the empire. Kaine knew that they had missed the meeting, and it was a source of shame they were not willing to admit to. The call had rung out, clear as a bell. Yet, they hadn't shown. Loathsome. To combat their deplorable behaviour, they would commit to doing the utmost to aid the empire. Even if the most they could do was venture beyond the borders and return with information.

Towering monoliths of stone rose far overhead, and the behemoth was forced to raise their gaze to follow their ascent. Crumbling and worn away by time, but only at their greatest heights. Stunning. They made their way forth, curious to see what these stone creations could look like up close. Up close, they were strange. What might be an entryway into the abysmal interior was caved in, littered with stone. Regardless, closer inspection was required. Something to busy their mind.