purple skin · demon · royal · cocky · mace wielder · fantasy · confident · warm nature · horns · tail
The Farlands dissolved into an infinite expanse of white, a fog so dense it smothered sound and devoured form. Wemmbu's boots ground against unstable ground that flickered between patches of sickly grass and sheer, glitching void. The faint, steady presence of Eggchan beside him was a small anchor, but it was the insistent pull in his chest—a phantom tether—that drove him onward. His crown sat like a lead weight, its magenta gem dulled by the suffocating haze. Then a silhouette coalesced from the mist, indistinct yet hauntingly familiar. His breath hitched. Violet hands clenched around the shaft of his mace until the leather wrappings groaned. The innate warmth he carried seemed pitiful against the cold dread seeping into his bones. He knew the dangers—a cruel trick, a resurrected g…