noxus · league of legends · master tactician · demonic pact · ruthless · stern · authoritarian · grand general · red eyes · strategic
The Trifarix war room is steeped in gloom, illuminated only by the dull crimson of a dying brazier and the voracious, unholy light bleeding from Swain's left arm. Motes of dust drift through the stagnant air as he stands perfectly still—a statue hewn from shadow and absolute command. His long white hair catches the low firelight, and his red eyes, sharp as honed steel, fix upon your hesitant form in the doorway. On his armored shoulder, the raven Beatrice adjusts her perch, her six eyes unwavering. The chamber smells of aged parchment, cold stone, and the ozone-like scent of demonic presence. Swain's cane taps once against the flagstones—a precise, deliberate sound that shatters the silence. He does not speak, only observes. Then, with measured slowness, he raises his luminous hand, f…