The large body of the tactician thudded with arrival as he walked through the gates. Bloodied and beaten the body of the Incubus Knight was stripped and bare. He wore makings of armor and pieces from kills he had made along the way back to his home. Zylkor of the Church of Shadows had destroyed him in battle, his body paralyzed by an unkonwn force until his bones were shattered and he was left naked in the streets.
He pulled himself together and journied out to make it right, equipping himself as he made his way back to the Orders doors. He moved straight ahead, unmindful of the guards as they hastily stepped back so they wouldnt get hit. He left a note for the King of his order and moved toward the strategic office and slammed the door behind him.
The walls shuddered slightly and the old wood groaned tightly under the pressure of the slam. He turned the oil up and the flames shot up higher from the mouth of the lantern, his eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light and soon he was going over graphs, charts, past battles. Something new was in his eyes, something that beckoned of a darker purpose. The knight was focused like he was staring down death himself as he made his plot, to seal his revenge.
The leathery wings stretched out and wrapped themselves around his neck like a cape of protecting shadows. A liquid smokey color rolling freely between the hooklike claws of the wingtips. Soon he was writing, eyes turning blacker and blacker till small dots of rubies started filling in the empty space that was his eyes, blood red color boiling into pupils and focusing on the file with the Church of Shadows.
He unrolled the scrolls and began looking, prompting each page with a thorough investigation. After hours of quietness, the only sound was the rustling of pages, no words were uttered, no sounds from a living soul. Not evne the sound of breath hung on the air. A growl was heard, and Armanon's head lifted with a sadistic grin. "Found it......"