One moment Nicoli had been kneeling on a soft mat, fully garbed in his Veiled-One gear, the cowl of his cloak pulled low. The next he was kneeling in a splendid hall full of light and the presence of others, sounds and smells came to him, the voice of some creature explaining what was happening.  

Strangely, Nicoli didn’t feel the anger he thought he would of. Rather a deep passion blossomed inside the normally cold man. It was far and between when the man known as D’Angelo had a true challenge. He rose from his kneeling position, pushing back his hood, and let his dark blue eyes survey the others that had been summoned around the table. 

He reached out and grabbed a vine of grapes as he slid his goggles over his eyes. He did not bother to pull his cloak about him, allowing the various weapons he wore to be seen. He turned a full circle and surveyed the rest of the area they were in.

“Impressive. Our host is most gracious.” He spoke to no one in particular, but he recognized that events such as this demanded a certain amount of etiquette. Which, apparently, the lumbering oaf pissing in trees clearly lacked. He clicked his tongue against his teeth, and went back to the food.