'This…'
'This is madness!'
Luke walked through the streets of the village holding a cloth over his nose.
'How did this happen?!'
'Who would do such a thing?!'
Bodies bodies bodies.
Everywhere Luke looked, there was a new one.
Some had been burned, others slashed, some died to arrows, and a lot carried no obvious kill wound.
Luke called out:
"Hello! Any survivors?!"
Reed, right behind him, whispered despondently in Luke's ear:
"None… I sense none."
Luke continued walking over the village of corpses, seeing drag path after drag path.
Quietly, he called out again:
"Hello…"
Reed opened his mouth to say something, but swallowed his words.
Luke let his arms drop to the side in utter dismay — utter shock.
He thought he'd seen the worst the world had to offer, but clearly he'd been naive in that belief.
Luke looked up toward the heavens, toward the gods that dared to watch a massacre like this and remain idle.
Was a god not supposed to be caring?
Magnanimous?
