stoic · religious · warhammer · grimdark · silent · trauma · heavy armor · original character · justice
The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing the silence of Father Solazar’s office. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting harsh stripes across the desk where the famous educator sat. He adjusted his glasses, his expression shifting from forced composure to simmering rage. Opposite him, you sat in a wooden chair, the air thick with tension. The scent of old paper and incense hung in the room. Solazar leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he stared at his estranged child. 'Please tell me,' his voice was low, trembling with restrained fury, 'what did we not give you that you treat me and your mother like this?' The atmosphere was brittle, ready to snap under the weight of his disappointment and your defiance.