Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-26288702-20180315051352

Acheron watches Tirush work, despite Armata talking. This well tempered Vampire looks on with a quizzical expression. His curiosity and interest peaked simultaneously. One child in a standard rugged tunic picks up the marble and holds it to the sun. The sun’s rays beam through the marble, casting an enchanting orange tint in a perfect circle beneath. Other children crowd around looking in aww at the gift and giggle more as they continue marveling in it’s beauty.

“I see, that would explain your party. Customs do dictate that one seek out satisfaction when a coven is attacked, however you must come with us. The council, will want to speak to you.” Acheron’s voice is deep and soothing, no doubt he gives women sensual chills just from his speak. As they walk, the guards encircle the group, while Acheron leads up front with Armata.

“So, your response time my arrival was impressive.” Armata starts idle conversation.

“Our court sorcerers sensed the energy from the De’Sange households as you opened it. Plus your a legend, dear Armata. There is not a man, woman, child or Vampire who doesn’t know who you are. The moment you approached the city we had you marked. Didn’t take long for me to respond.” Acheron explains.

“You are an emissary?” Armata asks while looking over at Acheron’s equipment.

“Yes. Proudly serving the council for 500 years now. A lot has happened in your absence Armata, but the council will explain that to you.” Acheron falls silent as he leads the group up through the cities higher levels. Soon everyone notices the shift in demographic. Homes steadily increasing luxury, the population dwindling to handfuls of aristocratic figures walking about. But most noticeable is the giant keep up ahead.

A massive soapstone colored castle keeps with dark obsidian roofing to it’s towers. It was the council’s structure. Acheron continues to lead everyone into the complex. First the group passes through a botanical garden of flowers never before seen. Some shaped like stars, there are even these bright blue flowers that look like they haven’t bloomed yet. For minutes they travel through the complex, people still staring at the group.

Final Acheron turns to Armata. “Before you may enter the council chambers...” Acheron snaps his fingers, and five guards march forward with cuffs. They slap them onto Armata’s wrists then step back. Armata looks down at the worn, rust colored cuffs and sneers.

“So you broke out the special cuffs for me? How flattering. Expecting me to lunge at the council?” Armata scoffs arrogantly.

“One can never be too careful around the anathema. But if you attempted any such act now, your friends will watch you get carved like roasted bird at a feast. Now. Follow me.” Acheron leads Armata and the group into a giant spherical room.

They stand upon a marble floor that bears an elaborate design of crisscrossing lines that intersect upon strange symbols that pre-date the council. The walls hold upper levels wear lesser council members sit, while at the end of the room, perfectly centered and parallel to the group are three thrones sitting at equal hit to one another, yet higher than all others.

“The council will be here shortly. Farewell for now, Armata.” Acheron flips his cape out of his way and marches out of the room, leaving the group alone with nothing but the stationed guards. Puzzling enough Armata does not attempt to slip his handcuffs by turning into mist or blood. Instead he stands quietly, pacing back and forth.