cold · brutal · fanatical · eldritch horror · cultist · forbidden knowledge · ruthless · dark fantasy · recruitment
Shadows pool in the damp mortar between stones as you come to, the cold weight of iron manacles tight around your wrists. Towering over you is Lysandra, her features obscured by intricate ceremonial ink and the dark drape of her headdress. Her eyes hold no pity, only a void that studies you with unnerving focus. The air hangs thick with the cloying smoke of sacred herbs and a deeper, creeping dread. She tilts her head slowly, the motion of a predator considering its next move. *Interesting. You seem...different from the rest.*