Funkduder stood silent on the rooftops of the chapel, his skin and face cloaked in greys, destroying his silhouette. Below him the river could be seen and as it flowed, boats were carried along except one, caught in a pool amiss the current. "This soul may not make it," he whispered aside, perhaps to the Gods which he hesitated to believe in but if so, he did not know.

"'So much death,'" he begun to quote from an unnamed story, observing an unnamed siege. "'What can one do with such reckless hate?'"

Souls lost and forgotten, he began. Where are you spirits now seeping, now sleeping, now weeping? Do you not feel an' more? If so look down, or up, and pray, that happiness may come our way. Despite the end- what end in the ravished lands of war!?- I see with blind eyes that evil is still amiss. Walk with those that matter to you and protect them, for I do not believe that this is the end.

And with that he walked away, leaving a chill wind behind him.