Dillon meanwhile was sitting on his newly obtained throne, the ruined castle, while still ruined had been twisted to suit Dillon's own twisted mind. The Gargoyles had been fully restored, there repulsive faces and deformed bodies were no longer chipped and smoothed by the passage of time. looking at these statues was unnerving, especially when most of the castle was still in it's aged state. his throne was a master piece, it's silken maroon cushioning, made of carved obsidian, the carvings depicted Death, Famine, War. You can tell a lot about a person by their furniture.
Dillon himself looked more deranged and for him that was quite an accomplishment. his suit jacket had gotten longer on his body, now reaching his thighs, the sleeves were baggier, and to complete the look a golden crown rested upon his head, tilted slightly to the right. if would have been comical if it wasn't so creepy to watch.
The electricity ran from his finger, down the steps to his throne, across the banquet hall and slithered along the walls of the corridors.
Dillon had a sense the heroes were coming for him, but he had a plan for them, oh yes he did.