[center][h1][color=#B5A642][b]Dragan Meszaros[/b][/color][/h1][/center]

Dragan frowned at the thrall's response, turning away to let Luna do as she would with her. If the poor woman truly had no desires of her own left, then she would continue to serve. As a bewitched minion of a siren, no doubt. But he could not defend the wishes of a thrall that had no such thing. Just as the door opened and Ichor's voice began to be heard, Dragan noted the arrival of yet three more vampires out of the corner of his eye. 

The newcomers were, at the very least, somewhat familiar to him. The ambassador, the ice princess, and the cleric of the blood lily. Over the course of his unlife, he'd either met or heard of each of them enough to recognize all three by sight. Each was at least respectable in some way, perhaps moreso than either of the other two vampires he'd been accompanying. By reputation, at least. In practice, things could be entirely different.

Regardless, Dragan nodded towards the newcomers, removing his helm as he turned towards the door.

[color=#B5A642][b]"Welcome, compatriots. It seems you're just in time to hear what the Goddess wills for us. Shall we?"[/b][/color] With little more said, he followed Ilena through the door and onto the balcony, kneeling before the light. 

[color=#B5A642][b]"Command us, Goddess Ichor. We are your swords, to do with as you will."[/b][/color]