What Is This Place?

Gravity led the way up a steep incline, his features which had only just returned to normal from the anger he experienced in the hard faught grave yard battle, now seemed to take on a more somber look with each step he took up the mountain. Akasha watched as his head and shoulders gradually and almost imperceptibly started to slump. He kept one hand at the ready never traveling far from the blade at his waist, while the other hand helped to push the Dead Weed from his path. Akasha could not see his eyes from the view she had climbing steadily up behind him but his posture gave away the fact that he was steadily pushing the rage that had so recently consumed him deep within himself. Akasha could only imagine what the power of that rage could be doing to him now that it was a ball of depression eating him from the inside out. The very air around him pulsed to her hightened spritual senses the sadness he must feel... but why?



They had beaten the tormented souls back.... they had faught for their lives and won with no small part of that victory belonging to the rage walkers firey anger driven power. She had to admit that she hoped he never had to draw those cursed blades that seemed to stare back at her from the burnt leather harnesses criss crossing his back.... where did he get those evil things and why did he continue to wear and communicate with them when he himself seemed to despise the blades.