Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20191103030646/@comment-30014014-20191107052027

@Everyone

Drapp moves back. Not to the party, but a secluded spot. His calpin opened, he begins. This time, a rather glaucous pen at work.

Nooses.

And bodies. Nobles, hanging from a certain height. Drapp's eye is a shift. One sly, subtle change to more malevolent state. Perhaps he should have followed...

"Pity..." His quilled hand stretches outward, a pulse of eminence. His intent, visible by the jagged blade that seeps out from the palm, writhing. His other hand, still holding his calpin, now notches the top of his mask.

The blade glimmers, alost screeching in vibration. Lightning? Physical? Both? Neither? It mattered little. Anyone staring deep in his eyes would have seen a hint. A hint of bloodlust hidden behind anonymity.

"...a real pity". The very reason he stood so far, anonymous. It shines under the white of the moon "Aw well, surely this entity is as merciless as his stance presented". On the next page of his calpin, an amored individual. A mask of a hound over the human mimic of a man. Hanged men under its grasp in a public parody.