[Creators' spark [eskra]: gods left it inside of mankind when they created him from the dust of the earth. It is this that drives man to write or sing or craft or create in any capacity, and it is precisely this spark that enables the use of the Onim. It is but a cold ember in the hearts of most, but within the veins of a select few--many of whom you would call Seekers--burns an undying spark than can be breathed into new life. It is the power of creation itself, the power that supposedly once brought forth life from the clay of these hills.]
Jonah shielded his eyes, the outline of the door blazing white, and when his vision returned, Jonah saw that a passageway had opened up leading into the dark of the Founders' Wall.
"Well, this is the end of the line for us," rumbled the taller of the two smugglers.
"What do you mean? Where am I supposed to go?"
"That's not our problem. Our job is just to get you out of Khaios, and we've done tha--"
"No need to be rude, Jafra," the smaller of the two interjected. He was, as far as Jonah could tell through the thick woolen clothes, still a very large man, but his voice was soft, gentle--not like any market vendor he had ever met. "Just follow the passage and it will take you out. There is an old woman a few hours eastward who can give you shelter and food until you've figured things out."
"Thank you. [Embarrassed]. Thank you for your help." Just at that moment, a pair of mercs rounds the corner of a nearby building and begins pursuit.
"I'm sorry to be breaking up your touching little moment, but they already dropped one of us, and I'm not going to risk any of us gettin' fired up with their blasters--especially not," Jafra continued, turning to his comrade, "with your arm already messed up pretty bad from the hit you took earlier." Turning to Jonah, Jafra commanded, "Go, kid. Go now. The door will close as we leave." By this point the mercs are nearly there, and their blasters are spitting pulses of energy across the twenty meters between them and their pursuants.
Jonah shielded his eyes, the outline of the door blazing white, and when his vision returned, Jonah saw that a passageway had opened up leading into the dark of the Founders' Wall.
"Well, this is the end of the line for us," rumbled the taller of the two smugglers.
"What do you mean? Where am I supposed to go?"
"That's not our problem. Our job is just to get you out of Khaios, and we've done tha--"
"No need to be rude, Jafra," the smaller of the two interjected. He was, as far as Jonah could tell through the thick woolen clothes, still a very large man, but his voice was soft, gentle--not like any market vendor he had ever met. "Just follow the passage and it will take you out. There is an old woman a few hours eastward who can give you shelter and food until you've figured things out."
"Thank you. [Embarrassed]. Thank you for your help." Just at that moment, a pair of mercs rounds the corner of a nearby building and begins pursuit.
"I'm sorry to be breaking up your touching little moment, but they already dropped one of us, and I'm not going to risk any of us gettin' fired up with their blasters--especially not," Jafra continued, turning to his comrade, "with your arm already messed up pretty bad from the hit you took earlier." Turning to Jonah, Jafra commanded, "Go, kid. Go now. The door will close as we leave." By this point the mercs are nearly there, and their blasters are spitting pulses of energy across the twenty meters between them and their pursuants.
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