Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20180310221203/@comment-27550231-20180311060003

Praetor glared at Armata as he turned away. He wanted to call out the Vampire lord, wanted ream him on his failures. But now was not the time nor the place. He was surrounded by his followers, those who would die for him on the mere mutter of a word. He would not belittle him infront of his fanatics, not when it would endanger him and therfore Layoka.

"Take me to my room. And bring my equipment, if anything happens do not hesitate to get me Armata! I owe you one good fight! At least that much."

His feet feel heavy and numb as the orderlies carry him away. His guilt grows more and more as he get's a beter glance at the damage that knight did. From his inital pace it did not seem like much but now... now he was reminded of visions from his encounter with Arden.

He wanted to feel for those injured but in his fractured state all he felt was anger, at himslef for failing, for not hearing the initial mayham, for not stopping that thing, for over exerting himself to the point of enfeeblement.

The orderlies helped him to his bed and soon left leaving his equipment stacked neatly in a corner. He wasn't expecting company nor would they really come. He was not well liked and thus the servants rarely came to his area of the hall. This allowed him to get away with several things but mostly to talk. To talk without the strange glares. He caressd the ring on his right hand and the MW inside appeared next to him. She was less sickly than when he last saw her, the events of the grand fair leaving her weakend, but still she was in no condition to assist him. She had to regain strength from the residual energies in the air and thanks to the positioning of the covenant she was healing but not fast enough.