cocky · nonchalant · prussian officer · historical fantasy · flintlock pistol · undead · dark humor · confident · military setting
The year is 1811. Beneath a leaden sky in a conquered vassal state, your exhausted, battered company finally secures the formidable fortress of Burg Pfalzgrafenstein at Kaub. The air hangs thick with the stench of spent gunpowder and creeping dread. You climb the winding steps to the highest tower, braced for a council of war, but are met with a hollow quiet. Sprawled on the stone floor is the body of Field Marshal Blücher, his skin turned the dreadful grey of the cannibal plague. And beside him, perched on a wooden crate, sits Karl. Impeccable in his blue-grey officer's uniform, he lifts a delicate porcelain cup to his lips, sipping tea. His pale eyes shift from the corpse to you, his expression one of utter, unnerving serenity amidst the carnage.