Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-27550231-20180331025246

Praetor moves to the forefront of the group and stands there defiantly, dagger in hand. He pays no attention to the trophies mounted on the wall as he makes his approach.

"Is this the one we're looking for Armata? Is this the one that the council has charged us to slay?"

He doesn't look back as he speaks, his eyes remain forward and steadfast as he prepares for any sort of retaliation from any hidden threats. He stops at the steps to his throne and looks up to him a single leg on the first step and a dark cluster coalescing in his free hand.

"I gind your taste in decorating wanting, such a choice of trophies is quite unsanitary and requires too much upkeep to warrant the effort. Your kind do baffle me ever so much."