“Ah, good...you have arrived.” The Lord of the Grand Palace soothed softly in his throne room, cradled in his bejeweled serpentine-coiled seat over the fatally beautiful fountain. The hissing maws spewing their draconic gushes of water to the crescent moon that took the front of the chamber. No one, but the well-fed vampiress and the Patriarch under azure layers and a monstrous mask made from the island’s coral reef.
“How has your long travel been, Young Ukara? Are your brothers and sister faring pleasant thus far?” Even with her considerable age, the woman was still but that young aspiring court-hopeful in his eyes. Especially of past deeds and regrets that she know not of greater truth yet. This was a start to make something right.
Rahab has been hearing about the battle between his brothers for many a century to the point he had his court-aides to just read the reports from his Alukae. It was too painful to personally do then. Now, It was only recently that he’ve returned to Nosgoth’s mainland and reclaimed his abbey from Turel’s command, due to recent misfortunes. Officially, the human rebels has ruined the dam keeping the water in check. That wasn’t true.
By the passing whispers of his agents, Rahab invited Ukara and a number of her closer kin to his palace for isolation from the war between the Clans and the dissents. The Razielim were fighting a battle of an increasing slope. They were powerful, even in their fallen grace, but each death was a blow to their moral and already small numbers.
It was like watching an exotic predator species die from the many factors of Nosgoth’s cruel life. Survival of the Fittest. Rahab has watched a number of species die in this blighted world, this clan he will try to preserve.