Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190114001113/@comment-25808351-20190211003617

(Everyone) Armata takes a moment to relax as another fresh sheet of metal heats in the forge. He has his hand to his chin as he thinks of names for the tiny Living Doll sitting on his desk.

“We will call you Piatra. That’s suitable, is it not?” He asks before sipping from his glass of wine. The Doll’s eyes sparkle with giddiness at the sound of her new name, despite her face showing little emotion. She then nods her head in agreement, accepting her new handle.

It is then that the sky turns crimson outside. Armata is one of many in the castle that bolt to the window to view this phenomenon. Clouds churn and the wind becomes hostile. Trees crack and creak from the sudden force of wind, and hollowing produced by it is loud enough to drown the nervous chatter of the Castle’s populace.