[center] [img]https://i.imgur.com/cILISdu.png[/img] 
Homurahara Courtyard(Banquet of Kings), Academy
[@BB] [@ everyone Else that is at the banquet I'm literally too lazy to tag fifteen people][/center]


At the banquet was the disgusting device formed from interlocking blades; the asymmetric monstrosity of spikes and jagged edges and twisted metal. And upon it sat the Demonic Lord Rider and his imposing image, frightening the very hearts of mortals. A killer without peer who had killed a sizable percentage of the world population through his brutal reign. 

The Brutal King Timurlane. 

“Geh. How boring ...” 

Rider could not help feeling rather disappointed with the turnout of the banquet he had so readily prepared. He was not the sort to truly care for such parties, or rather, he was not the sort to care much for the current crowd of the party. A bunch of burly men and children along with a few faceless NPCs; the things he hated the most. The intent of the party has failed. He would have to teach his Slave what it means to fail their king later tonight. 

“Well, enough of the pleasantries. I was never much for talking small.”

...Of course, there were no pleasantries exchanged between Rider and his guests. 

Regardless of those who had shown up were up to his tastes, they were still those who had taken his offer of communion. And he accepted them into his “home”. Into his “possession” because they are of the same cloth as himself; a hero. After all, Rider was the greatest hero to have ever existed (source: Rider).

Retracting the bladed throne back into his body, like a spider retracting its web, he continued. 

“I shall get straight to the point. I am the rightful ruler of everything. Therefore, this grail already belongs to me. If you want to serve your betters, I’d ask every single one of you to give me your head; it will save me the trouble of taking it from you. Of course, if your Master is cute girl, I’ll even let them serve me. Gahahaha!” Rider said to the guests at his party, naturally as asking for someone to pass them the salt shaker at a family gathering with a smile that showed rows of sharp teeth behind a vicious, shark-like smile. 

He was the demon who had slew the back of the Persians. The devil who had salted the earth of the Levant and the fiend that had burnt down the great cities of Delhi. A man that truly loved war, not only for the wealth that it brought him but also for the pure enjoyment of brutality against his fellow man. 

There was nothing that the fiendish man had said that he didn’t believe. After all, he was the greatest conqueror. The man who had set up his dynasty as leaders of the world, yet their passivity prevented proper subjugation of all. Perhaps Timur himself could be considered a bit of an anomaly in some regards. Someone who forced his opponents to submit themselves to him or face annihilation at his hands. If there was something he wanted, he would take it, regardless of the cost it might take. 

To those at the party, this Demon Lord seemed terrifyingly defiant and ignorant to the thoughts of those around him. After all, what mad-man declares his intent to kill the most powerful individuals' humanity’s imagination had to offer? 

... Like father, like son.