"Realitate. Nemurire. Invincibilitatea... Inseamna cu adevarat ceva, exsita? Sau sunt doar cuvinte?" -Unknown.
It was a stormy night at the East Wing Covenant castle. Armata sits stoically in his throne as all there to seek an audience have been helped and sent on their way. The flames of the firebowls lining his throne room, cast light that flickers and glistens off his goblet. The decorated cup contains a crimson liquid that befits a Vampire... one some humans may object to. He sips this drink as he contemplates the day's events. Many farmers of the realm are experiencing strange occurrences. Unusual weather, animals acting strangely and a multitude of paranormal activities.
The Vampire lord cant help but categorize it as "mere spectral play". Perhaps a sect of Ghosts or Poltergeists are committing mischief in his dominion? But a foul sensation in Armata bowels, scream that it is a sign of far greater issues...
"My lord? MY LORD?" Imperia shouts. Awakening Armata from his heavy thoughts. "I am, terribly sorry lord De'Sange, but I was saying your bath has been prepared..." She bows respectfully.
"Thank you, Imperia. You may go." Armata dismisses Imperia with a hand wave, and she bows a second time before walking away.