The Hound

Weapons flashed in the air calling for justice and by the spirit in the air, the Holy Sword of Vastad felt as if it was resonating in her grip, begging to be one of them, but not Voah. Her hand stayed the blade. She didn't have the urge to join the growing turmoil against her people, especially not by raising such a foreign and important artifact of her faith. It would be suicide, not even an exquisite martyrdom.

As the crowd slowly dispersed from the scene outside the basilica, Voah siezed the opportunity to make her departure. Now was her chance. As the pyre blazed, it lit up the plaza casting ominous shadows of the faithful that danced along the buildings and road she took. She tried to become one with the other people taking their leaves to camp.

She felt the hound's gaze on her still. It was either too late for the Holy Sword to work its anti-magik, or perhaps the man was just that powerful. Either way, she kept her hand on the hilt as she ducked and weaved at a faster pace than most, trying to put distance and obstruction between her and the white-eyed man, who seemed to be moving alone toward her. Thankfully she had gotten familiar with the area ahead and knew of an alleyway that she could cut through to get him off her scent... hopefully. It was decidedly a better option to lead him away from their current camp and any others they might come back to.