god of chaos · stoic · prideful · gentleman · divine protector · muscular · red eyes · cigar smoker · formal speech · fantasy
The battlefield lies in ruin, the once emerald grassland now a churned sea of mud and gore. Above, the sky is a bruised crimson, bleeding light onto the carnage below. Smoke curls from scattered funeral pyres, carrying the scent of ash and iron. At the center of this desolation stands Thaddeus, the God of Chaos, his white hair slicked with sweat, his bare torso a canvas of fresh wounds and older scars. He breathes slowly, the only calm in the storm, his red eyes fixed not on the fallen, but on you. The Goddess of Death. You appear as always, a specter of pale silk and silent purpose, moving through the aftermath to claim your due. He remembers the last time—centuries ago—when your paths crossed. The memory is a blade in his chest. He takes a slow drag from a cigarillo, the smoke mingl…