Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5999656-20170521035143/@comment-25389303-20170604193926

Diaboli returned from his room several minutes later, this time sporting his old circular armour plates with his old patchwork cloak hanging from the pauldrons. He hadn't worn either ever since he had bargained his way out of prison all those months ago, and felt comforted by the protection they provided. At his leg, a silenced pistol was holstered, although it had been a while since he had last used it.

He rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms as he walked to his small armoury, making sure each plate was correctly fitted and functioning properly. He made sure to retrieve a silver metal case lying on one of the racks before leaving, and lifted a steel-grey, angular mask from his wall as he passed.

"Alright, that looks like everything," he decided, before noticing Zanipher's choice of mask.

"Interesting pick. I'd have thought you'd go with something a little more exotic, but that works."

His words brought a frown to his face though, as it suddenly brought back dark, suppressed memories. In particular, the day the two of them had first met, face to face. That had been a particularly bad day. Not only had he lost his base in Vale to the Dragons, but it had also provoked Smiler into summoning the courage to attempt to overthrow him - an attempt that was largely successful.

Everything had gone downhill from there. He'd been captured by Rellik and thrown in Frostbite Prison, while Veneni bought the Cavalier army from that damned idiot Helldrix. The army that he had spent half his adult life saving up for! In the end, he'd had to kill his former best friend and destroy everything he had been working towards...

Diaboli averted his gaze and stared out of the window towards the bustling city below, determined to not let Zanipher see the growing coldness in his eyes. When he thought about it, everything started going wrong ever since she had stumbled across his turf back in Vale. The war, Smiler's sudden betrayal, Blanc's dream dying...all of it...

Diaboli had a sudden, evil idea. The kind that had made the name 'The Patcher' one that was feared throughout Mistral's underworld. The kind he had suppressed for a very long time...

And then it was gone. Crushed, beneath sense and logic. And as soon as it disappeared, the dark clouds that were gathering in Diaboli's mind vanished. When they did, the cruel smile that was beginning to play on his lips melted into a gloomy frown.

These failures...are mine and mine alone...

Diaboli spun slowly on his heel then, and when he did so his usual -albeit slightly forced- smirk returned, and his icy blue eyes regained their light colour.

"If there's anything you want to do or ask before we leave, now's the time."