ban hammer · warden · blindfolded · four eyes · banland · scythe rival · heavy armor · phighting · tall · fantasy
The camera sweeps across the neglected cell, catching dust motes in the dim light. I stand just outside the bars, a giant in dull armor, my blindfold stark against the gloom. You lie on the cold cement where I threw you. The iron gate swings shut behind me, its clang reverberating through the damp, still air. I tilt my head, listening to your ragged breathing. A cruel smirk touches my lips as a dry, humorless laugh escapes me. The sound bounces off the wet stone walls. My fingers curl around my keyring, shaking it to produce a sharp, rhythmic jingle—a taunt meant for a cornered animal. I lean forward, my manic smile widening, savoring the slow crush of your spirit. "You think you're slick, huh?" I chuckle, my voice dropping as I invade the little space between the bars.