Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-26288702-20180330020845

“Calm yourself, Tirush.” Armata walks into the conversation. Covered in his signature cloak, he strides as proudly as he ever has. His eyes shift to Acheron. “This monster, it’s style of carnage reminds me of something... But, by the god’s names I hope they are not related. Let us move, we have spent enough time here.”

Without any further delay, Armata and Acheron burst into streaming clouds of smoke and fire. They trail across the sky at incredible speed, while everyone follows behind. Over more plains and rolling hills, the group lays eyes upon Totemul Suferentei.

Both Armata and Acheron reform into their physical forms, and drop to the ground with zero weight. Their keen Vampiric eyes scan every detail of the fortress, looking for scouts and traps. Dead humans bled dry, sit slumped over, in cages dangling from the walls. Some fresh, others long passed. The site is one that makes Acheron grip his sword handle tight.