Darkness. It spreads throughout the courtyard like a velvet curtain obscuring the solemn beauty of the manors garden and bringing a bleak mood to the spots single silent watchman. In hushed whisper he asks the world," Does this darkness call me to service as well? It has yet to show itself. This master of darkness that bids me come." With a sigh he quits his dark musings just as another presence arrives. The watchman turns to study this newcomer. A man of middle years, large and strong, his hair cut short and slicked back, and a dark mahogany suit of the finest cut. The watchmen nods a greeting," Father. Did your meeting go well?" Miles Signova looks his son up and down with a critical eye. Eyes as cold as ice judged the boy. Nothing left unchecked, hair immaculate, pulled back into a tight ponytail, hard trained muscles tight with controlled violence, emerald eyes constantly alert, even now combing the area for hidden dangers. He smiled still cold," Yes my boy the lord will see you now." The boy stiffened at his fathers words. At last he would know his purpose..... the life he had trained his entire 18 years in preparation would finally come. His steps were swift as he walked the corridors of this large manor, walls muraled in scenes of blood and strife, carpets as red as the blood painted across the walls. His heart pumped a steady beat as he walked into his future, head held high. The corridor ended in an intimidating door, inlaid with images of faces twisted in sick parodies of agony or lust or rage all of them staring out looking to him for succor. His hand was still steady as he rapped upon its gouged surface and his step was steady as he made his way through the doors gaping maw. Momentarily blinded in the light of a hundred candles he heard a voice boom out," Vir Signova, Servant of the dark crown!"