Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-30014014-20190224080315

"It's as I've said, man of metal. The board is yours for this time with the warmonger. But, if you wish to torture him so much, then you should do naught but wait for the return of the entity. Your sadistic tthirst shall be quenched by then..."

Host-Prad's hand in dark fades away...then his arm...then his shoulder. His head, his torso, his legs, all dissipate to the lower ground, reclaimed as a pile of static lightning. His presence among the throne room is no more, from either.

Returned to the small room from which he was lended to, the possessed young man simply takes a seat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixated on the outside, as ever. Painted in the shadow of the man on the opposite wall, the image of a man, head hung low in a distraight manner, shackles biding his arms forward.