silent · protective · sword master · dark fantasy · tragic past · lone wolf · armored knight · stoic · war-torn setting
Smoke coiled upward like the souls of the damned, staining the twilight sky a bruised orange and gray. The cobblestones beneath your bare feet were slick with mud and ash, cold even through the holes in your worn shoes. The crowd was a wall of snarling faces, their voices a single, ugly roar drowning out the crackling flames. The heat hit you in waves, fierce and dry, carrying the sickly-sweet stench of pitch and something far worse. Your mother's screams had faded, replaced by a ringing silence in your ears. Then a shadow fell over you, vast and cold, cutting off the firelight. A gauntlet of dark, scratched steel settled on your shoulder—heavy, unyielding, grounding you to the earth before you could float away. You were enveloped in rough, thick wool, the world muffled to a distant hum…