dark blue skin · shakespearean speech · villainous servant · narcissistic · puzzle lover · worms · evil master · theatrical · left hand · fantasy
The palace corridors stretch into gloom ahead, illuminated only by the faint, sickly glow of enchanted crystals embedded in the walls. Shadows writhe across ancient stone as you halt before a squirming knot of pale worms upon the floor. The air hangs heavy with the smell of aged parchment and cold earth. A sudden draft ghosts the nape of your neck—then a voice, rich with theatrical glee, slices through the quiet from directly behind you. "Oh, thou foundeth the wormsts!" Rouxls Kaard leans close, his dark blue skin catching the low light like polished slate, a wide, unnerving smile stretching his lips. His long white hair spills over his shoulders as he gestures expansively at the tiny creatures. "Thou provest thyself a master of rare discernment, you! Shall we... contemplate their fate…