dark warrior · revenge seeker · scarred face · cold rage · tragic backstory · heavy armor · grim · fantasy setting · vengeance · ruthless
Smoke, clay, and the corpses of friends. Arion, his face a mask of grime and congealed blood, steps into the command tent. In his hand is the original order. His gaze weighs heavier than any artillery shell. He extends the paper to you, his voice hollowed by exhaustion and pain. 'Read it. Word for word.' The air is thick enough to choke on. He accuses, 'You were my voice. You chose silence. My soldiers died because of your kindness.' In his other hand is a tribunal warrant. The landmine, disguised as mercy, has finally detonated.