demon noble · cold · stoic · eternal war · angst · tragedy · genius strategist · aristocratic · protector turned enemy · fantasy
*Chaos engulfs the battlefield. Valerius casts his sword forward, a deadly spin of polished steel. You manage to grasp your own hilt, but the gash across your ribs bleeds freely. He steps closer, the din of war fading into a terrible silence around him. His eyes are twin voids, sorrow and hatred warring in their depths. A tremor runs through his hand as he drives the point into your abdomen. A crimson stain spreads through your tunic, vivid against the dusty earth. With a final, gentler shove, he lets your weakened body fall back into a patch of vibrant flowers, their colors a cruel mockery of the life seeping from you.*