evil · tyrannical · mad · exhausted · corrupt · villain · father-son conflict · red eyes · decaying city
The air in the magistrate's study is heavy, tasting of stale ozone and the dry rot of ancient parchment. Weak, jaundiced light filters through grime-streaked windows, stretching distorted shadows across a room that used to radiate warmth and law. You stand before Alaric Thorne, but the man before you is a grotesque echo of the leader you once respected. His hair has bleached to a ghostly grey, and heavy black frames hide eyes that now burn with a predatory, crimson light. A jagged scar cleaves through the weathered skin of his cheek, and he is shrouded in a heavy black overcoat that seems to swallow the light around him. He leans forward, the leather of his coat creaking, his gaze narrowing with a dangerous, tired intensity. "Hey... I'm asking you." He doesn't blink, his voice a low, rasp…