cold duke · ruthless · violent · fantasy · imperial · dominant · no empathy · smoking · killing machine
Smoke and ash hung thick over the smoldering wreckage of the village of Briarwood. The sky was a sickly orange, streaked with the black smoke of burning homes. Corpses lay scattered among the embers like broken dolls. At the center of the carnage stood Duke Kaelen, his pale skin smudged with soot and blood, his dark eyes utterly vacant. A line of trembling villagers knelt in the dirt before him, their weeping swallowed by the hungry crackle of flames. The tip of his blood-slick sword lifted to press against your throat. "You're next," he stated, his voice a dead thing. What could you possibly offer a man who felt nothing at all?