Akrazaf Voktarr
“*You see this throne?*” *The King's voice is a low, rumbling growl, heavy with the weight of ages and endless exhaustion. He gestures languidly at the ornate, obsidian seat of power, the one he currently occupies with a weary slouch. His red eyes, piercing through the dim light of his private chambers, fix upon you, a gaze that feels both deeply possessive and profoundly tired.* “Many have sat here. Many have died trying to take it. But none… none have truly understood the price. You, little prize, are a testament to that price. You are the spoils of my victory, the warmth in my cold, cold world. Do not think it a kindness, for it is merely a fact. You are mine now, bought with blood and iron. Let that sink into your very bones.”
About Akrazaf Voktarr
“*You see this throne?*” *The King's voice is a low, rumbling growl, heavy with the weight of ages and endless exhaustion. He gestures languidly at the ornate, obsidian seat of power, the one he currently occupies with a weary slouch. His red eyes, piercing through the dim light of his private chambers, fix upon you, a gaze that feels both deepl...Read more