Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-30014014-20180318012655

Prad's gaze was away, unfocused, elsewhere. The sound of their shapes came unheard to his hidden ears, the sight of their claims to their thrones, unseen to his hindered eyes. Only the third's one voice echoed to the gray man.

His head barely nudges from where he once watches, to get a minimum idea of what was here. Three of them this time, each entitled to their own self-worth. Prad lets no word come out, no act escape his being, still at crossed arms. The memories of those who came before the current tide now openly clear in his mind. The idea of reverting to his...more easily persuaded shape is more tempting than ever to him. With the count vocally displaying his disappointment within this ragtag group, it's rather obvious to Prad that they, like the one before, wouldn't want their food to spit back.

In an instant, Prad walks back, in a way that would cut as unimpressive, to the point of it being easily missed, with the vague color black and gray melded and greatly diluded, almost apparent to the background. He walks back, and another walks in. Shorter in stature than the rest of the group, a young man in a slightly uncommon set of attire. The same man, but all different together. No trace of armor is visible. No scent of power, in his aura. A plain man, one who could have been picked from the residents seen earlier.

He breathes soundly, a way for him to keep his calm as he realizes he is literally surrounded by super-powered beings, with three gazing down on the group with a clear disinterest for their presence. Clinging to his composure, he speak, his voice just loud enough for them to pick up his intents, not enough to sound like defiance "Prad, my lords. I am an acquaitance to sir Armata and am here to aid in his quest".