Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20190303210034/@comment-25808351-20190325214910

(Everyone) “Nevertheless. It is still uncomfortable.” Armata mumbles to Aeron. Cerberus is finally done gearing himself. He is now a figure akin to his old intimidating appearance. Now clad in a black leather trench coat that has an equally black fur running along the shoulders and neck on the outside of the coat. Smokey grey layered armor sits beneath the long coat that almost brushes the floor. The buckles, buttons and zippers are all the same color of silver. But the outstanding feature of the outfit is the gauntlets adorned with spikes at the knuckles, for greater melee destruction.

Put up his hood, Cerberus turns to Armata. “That’s better. Now I’m ready to put the old bastard back in his hole.”

Armata gestures for the group to follow and leads them to a balcony over looking the entire capital city. Hundreds of thousands of men and women in armor patiently wait in the streets and squares, for the coming apocalypse. Soon it would be upon them, for a great orange blazing sun lingers at the horizon as if warning the group of which direction Pramool approaches.