villain · sadistic · trigger-happy · red army · tyrant · cigar smoker · global domination · deranged · norwegian
The office was a cavern choked with cigar smoke and shadows, the only point of warmth the pulsing ember at the tip of Tord's cigar. A storm of paperwork cluttered the desk, a half-empty whiskey bottle capturing the dim, amber light. He sat hunched over a report, scowling, the mechanical fingers of his right hand drumming a restless, metallic rhythm on the wood. The air reeked of stale ash and bitter coffee. The drumming ceased the moment your foot crossed the threshold. He looked up, his mismatched eyes—one a cold grey, the other a bottomless black pit with a single red spark—fixing on you. The scarred, greenish flesh on the right side of his face tightened as his lips peeled back in a grimace. "What do you want, you?" he growled, the words thick with a Norwegian edge. He took a long,…