People get out of the way as the Brucolac strides through the fortress. He hasn't the energy to care about the scene he's making; still clad in Reul's highly recogniseable black plate save for the helmet, with two swaddled, squalling infants tucked against his shoulder, bizarrely incongruous amidst the spikes and weird, too-organic planes of the armour. His hair was darkened and matted by blood.

He was heading for Saralegui's quarters, fully expecting to be intercepted. The Lord of Redgate was too well-organised not to have some system in place which would lead to him being alerted when an Unseelie baron in demonic armour crashed into the fortress with the beginnings of a small clan of wailing bastards in tow.