Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25684606-20180404122401/@comment-27830834-20180404233416

Liah stares down the cavernous maw of the bordering ramp as a shiver of foreboding runs down her spine. On Arnsworld, an empty cavern was rarely a portent of good things to come; dereliction heralded catastrophic cave-ins or billowing fogs of pyrolucine gas that turned miners into jaundiced corpses. Reflexively, one gauntleted hand lingers towards the prayer beads wrapped around the haft of the flanged maul mag-locked to her side. The beads are old, ramshackle things; made from mottled clay worn smooth by the ages, but their touch instinctively calms her.

"Fear is no sin, only in succumbing does one fail." Liah quotes under her breath, joining her sister within the Valkyrie's passenger bay.

Still, the feeling of unease lingers...