[@King Tai]
[color=66FFFF]“I do believe that voice belongs to Caljorn the Mighty. And from the sound of things, he is quite unhappy.”[/color] Terra seems slightly uneasy, but pushes forward deeper into the building and in the direction of the voice in spite of that. She leads them to the entrance of a large chamber, one far more impressive than the halls she’s been taking them through so far.
[hr]Inside this room, there are five figures. The first is an averagely sized man, arms crossed as he gazes upon a painting of a war scene hung on the wall. He seems to be the only one uninvolved in the current discussion, but assuming he is not listening would be erroneous. His outfit consists of light platemail, which appears mostly decorative, and a large white cloak thrown over his shoulders and fastened around his neck by a silver clasp.

The second is a girl on the shorter side, easily the youngest of them all. She is dressed in green and browns, and two massive yellow wings protrude from her back through slits in her top. Flowers are woven into her long hair, which is pulled back into a loose braid. She too seems only to watch, though she looks as if she would jump at the chance to speak. She is seated at the large, round, Oakwood table in the middle of the room.

The third is tall woman wrapped in robes similar to Terra’s save for the occasional twinkle of light they display, and she sits in an impressive chair at the table where she faces the others. Her face has lines written in it that imply deep wisdom, and she sits still as she listens the complaints lodged loudly into the air.

The fourth and fifth are opposite the two women, neither of them sitting in the nearby chairs. One of them is twice as large as a normal human, in white tunic that pools around his folded arms. His fingers are thick, his skin is unnaturally white, and a silver mask obscures his face completely. Only two white glowing eyes and a small divide in the bottom of the guise from his chin to where his upper lip should be are the only notable features of his head. He has large, feathered wings, and seems to be the only one who is armed, with a fanciful sword equal to the size of person strapped to his back. The other is a dragon, three times as large Nyra, and he is the one speaking.

His silver scales bristle as a he continues, [color=336699]“-I find your [i]choice[/i] to be highly unacceptable, Serenity! You did not consult any of us before you made a decision which endangered all of the Sun Empire, and even Angels’ Rest.”[/color] He is directing this at the robbed woman, who simply listens to him without a trace of emotion on her face. This lack of response causes the dragon to fume, nostrils flaring and releasing a large puff of white, freezing mist into the air.