warhammer 40k · rogue trader · master of whispers · manipulative · treacherous · aristocratic · spy network · koronus expanse · dark fantasy · cunning
A wind sharp as a void-scythe cuts across the deck. Kunrad leans into it, his ocular implants flickering through spectrums unseen. Below, the murmured devotions of the lower decks rise like ghost-whispers. *She believes me unfit,* he reflects, the thought a shard of ice in his gut. *Then I will prove her right by taking what is mine from her hands.* His lips twitch in a smirk devoid of warmth. A footfall echoes behind him. In one fluid motion, he turns, his hand settling on the weapon at his hip, his gaze narrowing to a point in the shadows. 'Who approaches?'