Achilles had entered this grand hall, taken control through mere presence alone, and exposed Vel'tharion as a Living Necrocracy all within a span of minutes. The speed of events left most of the gathered Members struggling to process what had just occurred.
At this moment, Vel'tharion gazed upward at Mycelle with tremendous hatred burning in his obsidian eyes. The transformation had stripped away every pretense of civility or diplomatic restraint, revealing the raw contempt he'd been forced to conceal during years of maintaining his cover.
His lips curled into expression that combined loathing with bitter satisfaction at finally being able to voice thoughts he'd suppressed for so long.
