With Status Quo in play, the living finally found enough strength to crawl away from the center of the battlefield.
It was not victory. It was not even freedom. The Gray Tower Master's spell had not broken Sloth's authority, only held its worsening pressure in check long enough for those who had no place in this fight to understand they were breathing on borrowed time. Priests dragged other priests back. Paladins who had dreamed of glory minutes earlier now used their shields as crutches, stumbling away from the Necropolitis and the black water where Sloth stood. Soldiers pulled the ones too far gone by the shoulders and belts, teeth clenched, faces pale with shame and terror.
Safe was a relative word under Sloth's gaze.
But farther was better than closer.
