The architecture of the foreboding keep was gothic with minarets, turrets, towers, parapets and ramparts, all made of some black mixture of concrete, containing obsidian, iron, and orichalkos. The windows were like slits, from which flickering reds sometimes leapt, sometimes flickering bluish light, like phantoms trying to leap from the dark, hard embrace of the castle.<br/><br/>A drawbridge lowered with heavy iron chains over a soupy moat of mist so thick that it obscured whatever lurked beneath it. Tendrils rose up like ghastly hands, as though vainly grasping for something beyond, before sinking back into the roiling thick mist. Bats of horrific size, with wings that spread as far across as a man beat the evening air with skrees, their fanged mouths and pointed, upturned noses seeking out the warm, delicious blood of lambs and babes.<br/><br/>Once inside, the shadows danced and moved unnaturally, of their own accord over the walls, alive by some unnatural power, while the creatures that greeted them with pale visages wrapped in dark finery of ornately embroidered silks that ran the gamut of colors from the bright to the somber, left no such. There were no mirrors, only a great crimson and gold laced carpet with high backed ebony seats, carved with painstakingly intricate scenes of battle, feeding, torture, and carnal passion. These two were enchanted to shift and move hauntingly, as though they contained the living souls of the figures reenacting the scenes over and over.<br/><br/>Above hung chandeliers of bone, lighting the whole with the brilliance of blood red candles that dripped their crimson wax down over the skulls and bones that supported them. And some twenty-five yards in front of them was a great iron throne, adorned with skulls of its own, each with a crown of gold or flowers. Two bloody pikes rose from each side of the back of the throne, each rising high enough to hold aloft a humanoid skeleton, impaled all the way through. And upon that throne was a figure in ceremonial armor the seemingly absorbed light into its being, keeping it trapped within its gloomy darkness forever. The King of the Dark Mist, Lord of Twilight and Midnight, Eternal Sovereign of Darkness, Herald of Death, and Blood Wolf were just a few of the titles that adorned his deathless mantle.<br/><br/>He rose from his throne, bedecked in a long crimson cloak that rippled and flowed down from around his broad shoulders to drag over the steps of his raised dais, as he stepped down, two royal guards on each side moving silently in perfect sync with their sire's movements, each of them carrying polished spears whose points twinkled with the flickering light of the candles. The master was at least six foot two inches, but the imposing dark aura around him made him seem even larger than that. His face was narrow, sharp, pale, and flawless. His eyes glimmered like two harvest moons with slits for pupils, and his lips, like the darkness around his eyes, were bruised purple in color. His long black hair flowed impeccably back and down over his shoulders. Upon his head sat a skeletal black iron crown bejeweled with blood rubies. Beneath his armor, fine black cloth flared up into a collar that framed his pallid visage, as his black sleeves set his long, thin bone-white hands and fingers in sharp relief. His leggings, such as they were behind his royal armor, were crimson like his cloak, descending into armored boots that only whispered of the dread weight that each of his steps bore down upon the stone steps. Two ornate, wickedly edged blades hung from his hips, each shaped like an onyx jet of flame, and hilted by two cruel hooked talons, while in his right hand he carried an ebony scepter, crowned with an orb that glowed with a pulsing bloody light, sickening to look upon like a festering, angry wound.<br/><br/>In his left hand, he held upon his open, upturned palm a crystal orb, swirling with mists and shadows. When he saw the Queen of Serenity approach, a phantom smile graced his dark lips. She looked positively delicious with long dark hair that rushed and flowed down her back like a river at night, her olive skinned face fair and flawless, as though she were freshly born into the world, her light hazel eyes soft, communicating a lifetime of love, innocence, and protection from the harsh realities of people less fortunate than herself. To him, she was veal and made his mouth water.<br/><br/>But his expression betrayed none of this, save for a lingering glance that took in the majestic beauty of her gown, pale blue in the skirt, with a darker top, like the dawn's tender pale azure and soft streaks of cyan before the first rays of the sun crept over the horizon--a dawn he had seen himself many times before he slipped back into the shadows and earth. The gold embroidered designs around these blues bespoke of her birth at dawn, in the golden rays of a sun he had not seen in two-and-a-half centuries. Cream and gold surrounded her bust; healthy, soft orbs of lush, smooth warmth. Her lips alone looked like they could kiss away the troubles of a beggar.<br/><br/>He felt that her generals and armed guard were quaint, and he gave Darian such an icy stare that the entire high vaulted grand hall seemed to chill considerably. Then he returned his attention to Serenity's monarch:<br/><br/>"Queen Aria Demos, of the bright and cheerful, yet... recently<i>subdued</i>... kingdom of Serenity, we of the Realm of Mist greet you in our hallowed hall and are pleased that you have arrived under a white banner, that we may discuss the terms of your<i>surrender.</i>" His voice noticeably deepened erotically at the emphasized words, as though he enjoyed them on some deep, carnal level like a hungry, slavering predator waiting to devour its fatally wounded prey.