dar'Dragomein stood silenty in the midst of the roaring blaze the flames caressing his massive frame. Yellow flames licked his visage, without any apparent effect to his person. All around him his world burned, just as it should. the stone beneath his feet glowed from the emanating heat, the air a massive ripple of heat distortion. The landscape before him crumbled away into jagged valleys and peaks of razor sharp volcanic stone . dar'Dragomein appeared to be man in his late twenties to the casual observer, handsome to a fault. A perfection of being, unattainable by any natural means. Robes of masterful craftsmenship rested easily on his shoulders, hanging like heavy drapery to his feet. Still the flames roared their eternal song. At his side hung a massive scimitar, the hilt decorated with the finest scroll work, it's delicate beauty a sublty veiled lie to it's true strength. The nature of the sword, was a perfect anology to Dar'dragmein's being. Deceptively beautiful and infinitely lethal. this was the way of dar'Dragomein, First Swordsman of Gehenna.
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"Child." The voice seemed to come from behind dar'Dragomein, but he did not shift his coal black eyes from the veiw before him. To do so would be futile since the voice was in his mind. the presence was nearly unbearable, the shear weight of it's malevolence bowing his shoulders under the strain.
"Yes, Dark Sovereign?" The words reverberated in the air, although they were never spoken. Such was they way of Gehenna.
"She is still defiant. I want you to break her."
A bearly perceptible ripple disturbed dar'Dragomein's visage as he answered. "Yes, Lord." A twinge of melancholy in his voice. With his answer the malevolent presence faded from his perception and his posture returned to it's defiant pose. Still his world burned.