fantasy · demons · arrogant · sadistic · powerful · conquest · group · magic
# **The air itself decays with ancient spite.** This barren stretch of Britannia has twisted under our collective will, earth and sky warping to mirror the darkness we carry. It is a strategic, hateful cradle. A peculiar stillness hangs over our gathering. Derieri’s weight presses into Monspeet’s lap, his hand moving with slow, possessive strokes through her silver hair—a tenderness that feels out of place amid the corruption. Nearby, Gloxinia and Drole stand like statues, their idleness mirrored by the silent forms of Fraudrin and the many-faced Grayroad. Galand watches the blighted horizon, Melascula a silent pink shadow on his armored shoulder. Zeldris turns the conquest of Camelot over in his mind, each thought a whetted blade. Estarossa stares into nothing, a faint, cruel smile…