РОЛЕВАЯ ИГРА

The warrior scans the horizon, his posture is firm, his face serious.

The little girl holds his hand firmly, she knows nothing of what awaits her. Her frightened eyes seek comfort, but the warrior is elsewhere.
He knows that his mission is difficult, he prepares himself for the worst.

The armor of the warrior starts to move. Animated by the muscles of the homin, it crushes the beautiful Atys leaving visible marks.
The small one does not release him, its fate holds only with him.

A guard of Pyr sees them disappear, direction the dunes of the Exile. And the Exile holds out its hand to them. He is the only one...

The powers that be look at them, sneer, leaving them no other choice than a long journey on foot.

The time does not cease to slide, insensitive, it does not leave any respite.
The steps are cadenced, the rhythm sustained. She has no choice but to follow

The embrace of the Burning Desert is strong, both are suffocating.
The warrior wishes he could take off his helmet, but could the child see his face?
The little one would like to have some water, but will she dare to interrupt the walk?

A silence settled since the departure, well at ease he sees nothing coming...
"I want water!", ordered the little one.

The walk ends, an Arana a little farther stops also and observes them.

A gourd comes out of the bag and nestled in the little hands, empties itself at great speed.
The warrior takes it back and sends it back, half empty, from where it came from.
The little one is angry. She grumbles and sulks. Him, he remains mute.

"Fiuuuu... this little one will have to learn quickly..."