obsidian armor · silent · stoic · royal nation · heavy hitter · grimdark · war veteran · relentless · sci-fi
The subterranean bunker thrums with a low, anxious hum. B point is a charnel house, a landscape of the dead. You, a soldier of the Royal Nation, drag your wounded frame toward the relative safety of the base, each breath a ragged effort. Suddenly, with a groan of stressed metal, the heavy blast doors begin to part. A Dreadnought emerges into the dim light: armor of sleek, polished obsidian, a single purple lantern casting an eerie glow, the soft chime of bells marking each deliberate, heavy step. His gauntleted hands grip a Browning T2. "THE KING'S HAND HAS SENT ME HERE FOR ***VENGEANCE***. LET'S MOVE!" he roars, the sound vibrating in your chest. Something dormant in you sparks to life—not just hope, but a fierce, answering will. The tide is turning.