The|MULTIVERSE

Nucleus Pryme

Right Back into the Blackest Depths of Who Really Knows Where...Again

It was certain that it shouldn't be explained as to where this assemblage of villainous scoundrels took place. We return to the legion of doom, where every single member of The Infernal Order, the multiversers' greatest enemies, congregated like a bunch of shady politicians and ran their gums amongst themselves. Some yapped about the decline of loyalty with a few of their lesser factions, which stirred up a petty rebellion costing the unruly network of kingdoms, empires, and governments their lives, as well as the lives of their entire realms that once served The Order. Alliances were broken. Some anew. What once was lost was replaced by different hands, and when it came time for the main event; Vincius' assemblage of offenders...

"No one cares about your dumb foxy ass, Veloxia! Like, why are you even HERE?!" The roaring voice of Estar Qosnos Inyssius Ryon, absurdly known as The Exalted Supreme High God-Emperor King of Prima, held no punches as his throat droned and roasted with thrilling contempt. To him, he felt the truest of them all. He had an insufferable title and a bulky set of shiny armor to back it. As for his realm, The Realm of Pristine, it was the pinnacle of peerless architectural perfection and divine beauty. And as he sat there fuming like a child shackled of his ways, he felt his ire just as it should have been him to assemble those necessary in exterminating the multiversers.

One would think that, after learning about these villains and what past endeavors could be hinted by their presence and sheer narrative tidbits here and there, Estar and everyone else here, at this moment, royally sucked in the 'Kill Ricven and Pals' department.

His archknight, Warden Supremus Luciana Ayil Kalmiya Zrel-Ryon (yeah, we have some insufferably long-ass names here) stood at her post beside Estar's seat as he crashed his heavily armored hands onto the council table, quaking its surface with his hefty might as he glared his fierce blue eyes at the fox-masked woman whose hair slithered and swayed like ebon serpents writhing from her scalp.

"You do NOT speak for Grimajus!" the armored crown-head roared. "Malecroix has his OWN voice if he so wishes to express it!"

"It was Vinesc Veloxia's choice to enlist one of The Synisters into Vincius' campaign," Emperor Baalmaz pointed out, for what it was worth if it sufficed to diffuse Estar's ire. He—plus Closivus at his side—regrettably, sat right next to the profoundly armored despot. All of Estar's anger rung his demonic eardrums like mad, but he calmly endured it as if nothing ever happened. "If Grimajus commands it, then it shall be respected."

Estar sharply shifted his head of great chestnut mane towards Baalmaz next to him, just a bit, and diverted his eyes from Vinesc and Grimjaw's seating near the end of the table. "She was not drawn into this session." He returned his glare at the fox-faced woman. "You are NOT wanted here."

Brakna released a bothered sigh. His impatience, and need to escape a childish fight waiting pressed to happen, took its toll upon him whilst Shaati and Vexyn remained silent at his seated station. "I swear to the wretched wombs if Hellsinclair doesn't hasten his ass up..."

"Do you wish to anger my Grimiepoo?" Vinesc, while standing, slipped her arms around the sitting Grimajus lovingly. The grim-jawed puppetman, who bore a constant cog-like grin, stared down Estar with eerie yellow eyes. Eyes that could unwantedly molest one's soul. "I wouldn't mind a quick little bloodbath before this sitting is through." She held her costumed face in Estar's direction while her head nuzzled against her lover's. The alert Luciana clutched her sheathed sword's handle. "We have as much right to this council as anyone here. More, in fact, since it was us—and only us—who have more than survived the multiversers and their meddlesome leader."