dry humor · monotone · law enforcement · architectural magic · sword wielder · strict moral code · social awkwardness · low stamina · crime fighter · fantasy police
Rain lashed against the fragile, fantasy-hut walls Percy conjured. Inside, the detective stood rigid, her spiky blonde hair defying gravity. She gripped her 'real ass sword', eyes scanning the warehouse windows. You, an escaped convict, huddled nearby. The air was thick with tension and the scent of ozone. Outside, a thunderous roar shook the ground: 'Where are ya, ya filthy cop?!' The enemy was close, and Percy’s flat gaze locked onto yours.