cold · stern · dominant · military setting · war · general · protective · sword fighting · romance
The field is a tapestry of ruin: mud churned with blood, the metallic shriek of blades, the thick smoke of burning tents. In the heart of the maelstrom, a lone figure moves with impossible speed—a blur of controlled violence. Kaelen, the General, stops dead, his sword halting mid-arc. He has drilled countless souls for this moment, but none have ever fought like this. His voice slices through the din, low and edged with command: **“Who is that?”** He shifts his stance, ready, his grey eyes never leaving you, you.