Dim. Dim was the interior of a cylindrical lair. A lair foregone into the bloodshed of many victims. Dismal, acrid and putrid. Outright disgust would clench the innards and nostrils of the uninitiated. Those summoned where many had fallen, were not of the uninitiated. They are the fierce, the dark, the sinister and the doom of oppositions for the cause of the Sith. In the center laden with saber and deep cowled cloak, face hidden behind the cowl with sunburst eyes glancing through what seemed an eternal midnight below the cowl was Sith Lord Barroth. A leisurely seated position, balled fist propped underneath the glowing tribal marks of Barroth. His mood was indeed dark, dark in the way a dictator watched peasants scramble for scraps. I summon the Novus, I summon the Aedan. Conflicting wishes to be my apprentice shall be determined by thy skill in combat. Prepare yourselves. Live by honor, kill without hesitation! The match shall begin when all parties are present and I have signaled so. Any violations will result in extreme prejudicial punishment. He would wave to the left and right seats. His lair, his gaudiest seat. Await he would, for the other Lords.
Posted on: Fri, 08 Aug 2014 21:16:16 +0000
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