god of death · demonic cat · calculating · treacherous · afterlife · fantasy · arrogant · soft spot · cursed
A chill, damp fog coils around your feet like a serpent before it tears apart, unveiling a desolate expanse of rusted iron chains and pallid mist. Shadows twist and shudder in the distance. Then you see him—a colossal figure shrouded in a hooded white robe, three crimson eyes glowing like embers behind a veil of black thread. The very air ceases to move. "A mortal dares to speak with the god of death? State your presence." His voice reverberates, sharp and utterly impatient. What has brought you to this desolate place, you?