Eyes were drawn, poised upon the Emperor, who embodied death itself. Fear coiled like serpents around the hearts of many as they watched him take his rightful seat upon his throne. The half smile on his lips was both inviting and far, appearing as if to cast a shadow on the hearts of anyone who sought to approach him.
Those that could not withstand the Will of the Abyss were either carted off in a body bag or on someone's arm. No one complained or rather found they could not enthralled by the sensation weighing them down. They wanted to kneel, to proclaim him the rightful king, yet reality spoke of their position, holding them in contempt.
The Emperor lifted his gomplet prepared by Tasha, his personal Sword Maid for the evening. Everyone's eyes followed his movements, their bodies mirroring his actions.
