Message #43730

[The Host]

 The cold cell holding a red deamon creaked as the metal bars bent apart, the deamon's fist clenched around the iron, her determination easily seen. Escape was necessary if she was to stop her former comrades. Nothing mattered more to her than stopping the plan. And so therefore, there was nothing able to stop her from leaving at that time and place. The shattered cell lay on the ground, ready to be devoured by the darkness of nightfall while the red coloured deamon flew off into the night, the blue blood dripping slowly down the sides of the broken bars...


 Mitora extended much further than either Taverna or Crioone had expected. The mountainous landscape combined with stale air and rolling sand and dust made an environnement that slowly took the life out of you, and in a place like this, losing the little amount of life that remained was not a good thing.
 After topping the latest mountain, Crioone paused for a moment, resting her four legs atop the peak of the mountain while Taverna dropped to the ground, kneeling once more. Crioone pulled the bag off of her back, spilling the contents out onto the mountain, looking for anything useful.
 "Find anything?" asked Taverna, looing at the objects that spilled from the bag. Crioone shook her head, her two forelegs reefing through the objects faster than Taverna could keep track of. Finally, she came to the gem and map, the last things that might have been helpful. But neither proved to be of any use, as the map remained a map, and the dimly glowing gem didn't shine any brighter.
 Crioone stuffed the objects back into the bag, putting it back onto her shoulder blades and flying into the air. Taverna followed, but his normal bravado was gone, and for one of the first times, Taverna seemed concerned that they would not succeed this time.
 Once in the air, Crioone headed for the next mountain chain, and as Taverna followed her, both deamons wondered wether or not they would ever escape from the place known as Mitora...