For a long moment, he stood in silence, the only sound being the faint hum of energy from the ship and the weapons of his guards.
A new figure emerged from its crumbling doorway. This man bore a striking resemblance to Azrael, the red-skinned lord who had arrived on the ship. His features were similarly alien, with the same deep red skin and intricate, glowing tattoos, though his patterns were less elaborate and dimmer in their luminescence.
The newcomer approached Azrael with deference, bowing low as he addressed him. "My lord," he said, his voice carrying a note of trepidation.
Azrael turned his fathomless black eyes upon the man, his expression unreadable. "Yukagrat," he replied, his tone carrying a hint of displeasure. "It seems you have been slacking."
Yukagrat lifted his head, meeting Azrael's gaze with a mixture of fear and determination. "No, my lord, I wouldn't dare," he protested quickly.
