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[Darrien Church]

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A long flowing red velvet cloak hung heavy over his shoulder, partially shrouding his light and most likely purely cosmetic leather and metallic armor. He was moving the pointed tips of his steel gauntlets over the face of a vanity mirror, a dim candle throwing the light needed for the reflection…

His bright green eyes glanced to his short jet black hair for a moment, after a hum of approval he moved his finger gently over his now unnaturally pale and flawless skin resembling a very fine mask, his eyes and lips outlined in a thin line of dark colors, his eye brows plucked and trimmed,

Scrunching up his brow he forces a broad smile, to simply examine his teeth…

Turning his long, and thin body he stretches his arm to a man standing in the distance, his eyes filled with a green energy the man sways, as if under an enchantment.
Then the voice, cold, legalistic, low, but forceful, absolute.

“You have done well…Before I release you dear servant I have but one more task for you, go to the City of Sanctus, and procure for me a room, use a false name, and do so at nightfall, I arrive in two days, Do not disappoint me.”

A flick of the hand…

“Go”

Closing his eyes, the figure begins to channel energy, and he radiates a pale green…time to stir the pot.


*meanwhile, at Charnel Hill*

A faint whisper joins those praying within the temple, these new and unknown souls…slowly the voice fills the Grove, a green light radiating ever so gently with each syllable.

Then he heard it…upon his throne the Lord of The Skull focused on a sound echoing within the chamber for a moment… Laughter