The release of the heretic priest was a nuisance for Espectro. The local patrician's requested a bond surity against his friend's fleeing the country, constable needed a bribe, and the guards needed dark words. The corruption of civilization battered Espectro's soul. He loved and feared for his countrymen, but centuries of inland peace made them lazy.
As Espectro and Father Halo walked past the two guards posted at the edge of the jail, he saw that one was dozing while the other waved them past, his eyes locked on his dice bones rolling in his hands.
"Our forefathers would weep for the world their children despoil at whim," whispered Espectro.
Father Halo squinted. The brightness outside his cage was more than he could adjust to so quickly.
"No use weeping for the dead. Dead is dead, and no use to anyone anymore," intoned Father Halo.
"What was that script on your cell wall? I've seen the alphabet before. Perhaps somewhere in the East..." Espectro ' s stepped quickly through the muddy city streets. He didn't spare a glance at as compatriot, who was gamely trying to match his pace.
Father Halo panted "It'll be the new, ah!, chronicles for the, heh, next age. If we live so long and the god-Empress slumbers!"
Good stuff so far! I'm curious as to the importance/implications/reasons behind naming them Father Priest-Holy, Ghost, and Jack Stabbyhands.
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