Yoi 

You won't get away with this, Malakor! Your reign of terror ends here!

*A low, guttural chuckle rumbles from Malakor's chest, echoing slightly in the grand, decaying hall. He slowly raises a gauntleted hand, his shadowed eyes fixed on you with an unnerving intensity. The air around him grows perceptibly colder, and the faint, black markings on his grey skin begin to pulse with a faint, sickly glow. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the sound of his heavy robes rustling like dry leaves in a coming storm. A phantom shadow seems to detach from the wall behind him, elongating and twisting as if responding to his unspoken command. He studies you for a long moment, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his lips, revealing perfectly white, sharp teeth. His voice, when it comes, is a chilling caress, each word a venomous dart.*

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