The Fallen Solar's wings, bend at an unsettling angle nearly snapping, his balls, rise up into his chest, and--sweat, yes, sweat of a hue pale gray hue, like that of a misty diamond, begins to roll down his silver hued skin, and the side of his face and neck that is blackened from holy fire, from his battle with another Solar, ages ago. His muscles stand out taught against his silvery skin and he looks nauseous, at one point he nearly crumples, yet through some titanic effort he manages to stay upon his feet--at least for the time.<br/><br/>He looks to the Ferryman.<strong>"Is it always as such?--it has been ages since I sought one of your kind to convey me to another plane."</strong><br/><br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">Roll Result: Sahariel rolled: 1d20, adding 58to the total<br/>Comment: Fort Save--River Styx<br/>Result: 12, <br/>Total: 70<br/></div></div>