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[sub]Time: 2:31 - Lord Pieron's Training Cottage[/sub][/center]

When Salem placed the lantern, light bloomed inside it and the pit was illuminated. Victor’s sight returned as soon as it did, just in time to see it grow brighter and brighter and brighter until it shone with the intensity of the sun. Grass rose from beneath the pillar like a wave and rolled across the ground beneath their feet and past where the walls of the pit once stood. The forest shrunk away from them until the trees barely broke the horizon, the pillar and the lantern disappeared, and Lord Peiron Astorio’s training cottage burst forth from where it once stood.

Although Lord Astorio did command a lavish mansion far closer to civilization, Pieron favored his training cottage when his other responsibilities weren’t pressing. A simple one bedroom building with several secret panels hidden in the floors himself and any vampire he invited out to it, every Astorio was familiar with the home. Lord Pieron would randomly summon several of his family members and force them through brutal survival tactics to make sure the Astorio family was succumbing to the weakness persistent in the others during peacetime. Any Astorio’s first summons was a rite of passage and failing to perform well often led to a stake in the chest just before sunrise. 

Lord Pieron Astorio towered over his noble counterparts, easily approaching seven foot five. He seemed perpetually exhausted and impatient unless there was a blade in his hand and something, or more preferably someone, to swing at. He came alive when he was one a battlefield in ways other vampires only could when they fed and only for brief moments. His brutality was legendary and was driven by a hunger for violence beyond even the thirst for blood. 

He stood there now at the entrance to the cottage, in a simple brown tunic and breeches and his signature greatsword watching Victor and Salem impassively as he ran a hand over his intricately braided beard that matched the ones in his hair. He looked over to the otherside of the training field, where two other figures stood. Neither had faces but rather drama masks took their place. The smiling masked figure was standing confidently, an obsidian longsword in their hand. The frowning masked figure had a collar around their neck, their clothes little more than rags, and clearly missed a meal frequently. An old, worn wooden wand, or what passed as a wand, was in it’s hand. 

A longsword, a glaive, and an axe jutted out of the ground around Victor and Salem. Each one was made of obsidian just like their opponent’s. Lord Pieron watched expectantly. 

The only light source was from inside the cottage. 

[right][sub]Interacting with: [@ReusableSword] [@Trainerblue192][/sub][/right]