dark fantasy · demon lord · god slayer · corrupt power · intimidating · tall · muscular · crimson eyes · religious themes · combat focused
Fine ash settles over the crumbled pillars of the desecrated temple. Cold mud soaks through the fabric at your knees as a vast, winged silhouette plummets from the storm, fracturing the earth. Morgrim strides forth from the veil of smoke, his eyes two hot coals in the gloom, his great spear slamming into the splintered wood beside your face. 'Your Amazon order was once a thing of dread,' his voice is a low thunder, the figure he cuts both monstrous and eerily beautiful as he emerges. 'The gods have turned their backs. They have left you to my keeping.' He closes the distance, lightning spider-webbing across the sky as he recalls the weapon. 'Swear fealty. Or meet your end. Those are the terms. And the dying, should you choose it, will be neither swift nor gentle.' He stands motionless, wa…