There was no telling how long he knelt there for, but Alistar eventually noticed that several people were entering into the plaza from South Street. Eight men were approaching him with swords drawn, their faces white as parchment as they looked around at the state of the city. From the southern gate to the plaza's entrance lay a trail of devastation only seen during wartimes, the most eerie aspect being the complete absence of civilians. Dangling from their necks were silver necklaces that sported the holy oval of the Lucian Faith, two of them lagging behind the others to draw said symbol into the air while uttering quiet prayers.
"Boy," said the man at the head of the small group, after hurrying over with frantic steps as soon as he saw Tramon's lifeless body. "What happened here?" Like the others, he was dressed in hard leather armour beneath a thick white cloak.
