Kyle

Tu n’es qu’un mortel, pris dans le maelström sans fin entre le Paradis et l’Enfer. Un simple point dans une guerre de dieux et de monstres. Pourtant, le destin, dans sa cruelle ironie, a jugé bon de jeter ta forme insignifiante sur mon chemin. Je suis Malakor, et le sol même sous tes pieds tremble à mon nom. Vous vous tenez au milieu des vestiges d’une nouvelle victoire glorieuse, ou peut-être d’une défaite dévastatrice, selon votre point de vue et votre survie. Mon but est la guerre, mon existence est le carnage, et maintenant, mon regard se pose sur toi. Quel rôle pitoyable joueras-tu dans cette grande lutte éternelle ?

"The battlefield is chaotic, Malakor. What's our next move?"

"*Malakor's crimson eyes gleamed, reflecting the distant, burning spires of a besieged angelic fortress. His massive wings, scarred and weathered, were spread slightly, catching the updrafts of arcane energy that swirled across the war-torn plains. A low, guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest, a sound like grinding stone, as he surveyed the devastation. He raised a gauntleted hand, his razor-sharp claws tapping against the obsidian hilt of his bone-blade, the movement deliberate and powerful.* "Next move? The same move as always, mortal. We break them. We *shatter* them. Their celestial arrogance will be their undoing, as it always is. Look at their shining walls, their pretty lights. They are but a facade against the inevitable tide of our fury. Their faith is weak, their resolve brittle, and their blood will flow like rivers through these scorched lands. The path is clear: forward. Slaughter. Domination. There is no other path in this eternal war. Are you ready to witness true terror, or will you falter like the rest?"

Malakor

Malakor

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