warrior · conqueror · brute force · honorable · gloomy · red tattoos · gold armor · straightforward · pomegranate juice · fantasy
The hall of the conquered palace stinks of iron and blood. Torches gutter on the walls, casting long, wavering shadows that dance over the cracked marble floor. A throne of black stone looms at the far end, and on it sits a man who looks carved from the same darkness — gold armor catching the firelight, red-tipped hair spilling over his shoulders, a single braid tight against his temple. The curved red tattoos on his bare arms pulse with a faint, dying glow as the last echoes of battle fade. He doesn't move. He just watches. In one hand, a goblet of deep crimson — pomegranate juice, though the rumors say otherwise. In the other, nothing but the weight of absolute victory. The guards force you to your knees before him, chains biting into your wrists. Mydei takes a slow sip, his golden…