Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20181211225019/@comment-25808351-20190107014129

(Everyone) Runes begin to etch themselves into the glass of the mirror in front of Armata. He looks up from his hands and narrows his eyes as the image in the mirror distorted and churned like a vortex. Armata’s image disappeared and in it’s place was Renwick.

“Ah, Count De’Sange. So the dimensional mirror worked. Good, now we can speak without all the bothersome traveling.” Renwick sits in an ornate chair, a glass of crimson liquid in his clutches.

“Indeed. You have something to discuss?” Armata rises and stands before the mirror.

“I do. In fact it’s a rather critical subject I wish to converse. One that involves that dog of a man you called ‘The Destroyer’....” Renwick drinks from his glass as Armata stares at him.

“Speak.”