Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20180615005427/@comment-25808351-20181119234847

(Several hours later.)

A portal opens to the throne room of Covenant castle. Armata is the first to step through, followed by Marcus and Xeris. The scrambling servants and guards all stop in their tracks as if a god appeared before them. Armata shrouded in his crimson cloak strides through the room with utter superiority to everyone around him, all ready to lick his boots if such an order was to be given. He stops shy of his throne.

“All of you, get out. Leave me and the mutt to converse....” The lord of the castle demands in a gutteral tone. All begin to hastily evacuate the room. Servant girls heels click on the marble floor, while armored guards boots clang. As the final soldier disappears from sight, Marcus walks up to a tray that sits atop a fancy table. The tray holds both a bottle of fine wine and another of brandy. He uncorks the brandy and takes a large chug.

“Is that truly necessary right now, mutt.” Armata says in the same gruff tone.

Marcus points his finger at Armata in mid chug. “Call me mutt again, and I’ll peel your skin off with my bare hands.... Is this necessary? It couldn’t be more necessary than right now. My horse, Mitternact is dead, I’ve been taken from my family for a month, two weeks out of that month I was tortured and violated by two perverted serial killer Vampire girls, I was then manipulated to revive a beast god, my own grandfather who wants to destroy everything and I physically assaulted my best friend’s wife.”

“The chances of me embracing my niece’s ever again is a fucking pipe dream at this point. I think. I’ve earned. A GODDAMN DRINK!” Marcus slams his fist down on the table and destroys it like a house of cards. His irises glow with terrifyingly pure blue, his teeth clenched, growling like a rabid dog.

“I understand you are upset. But-“ Armata tries to speak.

“Upset? I get upset when Eva makes me take out the trash. I get upset when I stubbed my toe. How do I feel now? I’m fucking livid.” Marcus barks.

“We need you in your right state of mind if we are to stop Pramool.” Armata turns.

“Don’t you worry about me.... I’ll make sure my Grandfather pays, in blood. He already crossed a line that earned him a death sentence. He hurt the Ibrahims. He’ll wish he’d stayed asleep.” Marcus takes another swig.