Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28358106-20160726175355/@comment-28358106-20160728153425

As he speaks, he caresses a lock of Lucida's hair.  "Indeed.  Let us take a more...appropriate setting."

There is a black flash, and they are in a room. Looming, elaborate. Shadowed.

Praetor looks about. Obsidian floors and black marble walls surround his sight. Dark red tapestries drape every corner, while elaborate black iron candelabras hold hundreds of candles, their flickering light throwing twisted shadows onto the walls. And then Praetor sees the bed.

Or perhaps...altar. An obsidian slab dominates the middle of the room, pillar candles on its every corner. There is a gasping sound, and chains rattle, echoing in the chamber. They move closer.

A young man is chained to the altar, his limbs spread wide. He is nude and blindfolded, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Whip marks cross his body. That is when Praetor senses it...the man's conflicted terror and excitement, tinged with self-loathing and deep, unending shame. Praetor sees the armor that lays at the foot of the altar.

He's an Order paladin.

"Ahh...and here comes the reason for our visit, the crux of our purpose tonight."

The great black doors swing inward. Her high-heeled boots clicking on the floor, taking her time, in walks the White Lilim.

Druella.