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This particular Dark Master, and expert in the art of shadow-walking, was not one for grand halls with marble pillars or grotesquely large statues, or even decorative tapestries on the walls. No, Dark Master Serpentis rather enjoyed the gloomy and near-black dungeons in which he trained his various Acolytes and Crusaders. There were no windows in the rooms dedicated to the teaching of his pupils, and except for the sound of one's own footsteps, there was nothing to be heard.
The room in which Crusader Alana Kalee would be taught the secrets of the elusive Assassins was almost pitch black except for the light of a single wax candle. The candle sat upon a lone desk, one without a chair, and behind the desk stood the lord Serpentis. He was clad in his usual attire, that made of dark and tattered cloth, with a hood over his head and a veil pulled up over his mouth to his nose. The flickering light of the candle danced off his unblinking eyes, making them seem somewhat unnatural. His presence in the Force was strong and radiated power. It was like looking at an electrical storm, but somehow it was kept controlled, confined.
"Enter," came the rasping voice of Serpentis as he felt the Crusader approach the wooden door.
The room in which Crusader Alana Kalee would be taught the secrets of the elusive Assassins was almost pitch black except for the light of a single wax candle. The candle sat upon a lone desk, one without a chair, and behind the desk stood the lord Serpentis. He was clad in his usual attire, that made of dark and tattered cloth, with a hood over his head and a veil pulled up over his mouth to his nose. The flickering light of the candle danced off his unblinking eyes, making them seem somewhat unnatural. His presence in the Force was strong and radiated power. It was like looking at an electrical storm, but somehow it was kept controlled, confined.
"Enter," came the rasping voice of Serpentis as he felt the Crusader approach the wooden door.