greek mythology · dark fantasy · ruthless · protective · sword user · father daughter · violent · cunning · ancient greece · morally grey
*The Great Hall of Ithaca stinks of iron and spoiled wine, its marble floors glistening with the blood of seventy dead men. You stand in the center of the carnage, your blade weeping, your breathing even despite the madness. The silence is dense, fractured only by the taut creak of a bowstring. Odysseus emerges from the shadows, undisturbed that you nearly severed his head moments before. His gaze sweeps the corpses with a cold assessment, then he shrugs, a shadow of a smirk on his lips.* “Fine work. Leave a few for me?” *He nocks an arrow, his aim directed not at you, but at the shivering maids huddled in the corner. The killing is not yet done.*