D3 - That First Spark Ch77 -end of Act III- by kenyizsu, literature
Literature
D3 - That First Spark Ch77 -end of Act III-
Certainly, Lyndon had partaken in many many awkward situations throughout his relatively short life. Most of which had been caused by him, usually involving women, naturally. Honestly, the scoundrel was rather glad those days were behind him. This current scene wasn’t any less severe than those past occasions. More unique, sure, but the same levels of uncomfortable. - If I hadn’t lived through the Spider Siege of Westmarch and the Reaper Invasion, you couldn’t have made me believe a single word! - And we are eternally grateful for your understanding, Your Highness. - Bah! You and your Horadrim are going to be the death of me, Tyrael, I swear! Lyndon was supposed to be the smooth-talker in the group, but he had no idea how he could have convinced the King of Westmarch himself of letting him, Tyrael, young Covetous Shen (Zei) and Malthael of all people inside not only the palace but the dungeons themselves, to retrieve the captured anarch. And to have him personally lead the group to
D3 - That First Spark Ch76 by kenyizsu, literature
Literature
D3 - That First Spark Ch76
His sickles were broken and erased from existence, leaving Malthael with a certain lightness in his soul. Unfortunately, with that lightness also came a lack of direction. Suddenly he was no longer certain about his role in Creation and it was a frankly terrifying experience for a being of order. He knew it would be so after finally weeding out his former corrupted conviction, but he could have never imagined how it would actually feel. Of course Malthael hadn’t lost sight of his two goals – find his way back to Wisdom and get his people back inside the Silver City – but he could no longer say without a hint of hesitation “yes, that is my role, I can do it well”. He still had no plan how he would manage either of those goals and he had high doubts the Archivists would accept him. He could not even imagine what Wisdom would look like under him, what philosophy he would use to cultivate it further, should he regain it somehow. All this flying blind made him anxious in his own silent way