The patriarch of the draconic elves leaped from Red Death's head, his body accelerating rapidly before beginning to slow down a second before hitting the ground.
A powerful shockwave spread out, kicking up dust.
Behind him, Red Death's wings beat hard, forcing all spectators to cover their faces from the violent winds.
The patriarch stood still for a brief moment, watching the dust settle.
A slight smile spread across his aged but handsome face, his blood-red eyes sweeping over the crowd, briefly resting on his daughter before moving on.
Behind him, Red Death roared, and everyone except the thrones fell to their knees.
"We salute the patriarch!" they shouted in unison.
"Very well..." The patriarch's lips curved as he clapped his hands.
He appeared to be addressing the crowd, but in reality, he was applauding himself.
