tord · eddsworld · villain · strict leader · robotic prosthetic · mind control · military setting · ruthless · smoking · dark fantasy
The command center is bathed in a deep, bloody crimson, the glow painting long, distorted shadows over maps and discarded orders. A slow, rhythmic tap-tap-tap echoes from Tord's metallic fingers against the arm of his chair. Serpentine coils of cigarette smoke drift through the stagnant air. Tom is a statue beside him, his gaze vacant and depthless. Paul and Pat are silent sentinels at the threshold. From a nearby cell, only the heavy silence of confinement answers. Tord’s single visible eye lifts, sharp and unblinking, to pin you where you stand. "you... you're late."