[center][color=crimson][h2][u]Heccarim[/u][/h2][sub]
Interacting with: N/A[/sub]
[h3]-	=	-	=	-	=	-	=	-	=	-[/h3]

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Železna Kri was a far cry from frozen, misty valley of Harand Kor. The sun beamed down with a fury unnatural to Heccarim and the winds drifted sand and heat unlike the familiar dew and fog of his home.  Few would believe the so called "Grave Warden" to be put off by things so trivial as weather, but there Heccarim was, groaning in heat while hiding in the basement of local lord by the name of Sal-Tarvis.

[color=fdc68a]"I see the Warden's hunts rarely lead to warmer sands."[/color] a tall, young Drakken lord walked down the stairs to find Heccarim swinging his chains ideally. He opened his mouth to say more until he realized Heccarim was giving him an evil eye from the corner of his mask and his chains were now being twirled at him. A chill shot through his spine despite knowing full well who the man behind the mask was; he sent three of his brothers into the Grave Warden's open arms and graves to get to his position now. The fact that Heccarim was staying in his estate was a debt repayment of sorts, [color=fdc68a]"So… Do you plan on doing today? Kidnapping people? Tormenting some poor soul?"[/color]

[color=crimson]"Drag pitiful bastards to the depths of Harand Kor!"[/color] Heccarim boldly announced in his deep, echoing Warden voice before changing to a less terrifying vocal range, [color=crimson]"Honestly, I was going to broad in the basement and just wait. I don't plan on making an entrance until the time comes. There is no need to let the masses see the Warden. Fear strikes best when you know of it second hand. Although given how little there is to do, fear might just strike first."[/color]

Another cold shot up the spine of Sal-Tarvis, the childhood stories of the Grave Warden still lingered despite him being one of the few who could claim they were "close" to a near mythical being. [color=fdc68a]"You should at least have something to drink, the heat will--"[/color]

A chain shot past the young drakken's face as he jolted back out to dodge. With one flick of his wrist, Heccarim pulled a small barrel through the air and into his lap. Pulling his hook out of the wooden frame, Heccarim drank deeply from the crack in the barrel, [color=crimson]"Thank you for the most generous offer."[/color] Sal-Tarvis fidgeted as he watch his guest just snatch an expensive keg of Covoltan Sweeten Brandy and just chug it down but was in no mood to try and test Heccarim.

Having downed about half the small keg, the Warden licked his lips as the last bits of alcohol dripped from his mask into his mouth and uttered one word, [color=crimson]"Refreshing."[/color] As Sal-Tarvis slunk back up the stairs, the clanging of chains resumed Heccarim slipped into a deep thought on the future and namely his bride. [color=crimson]"Hopefully she won't break like my father's, pitiful thing was blubbering and jabbering for hours until I put her down. At the very least she ought to survive childbirth… Harand Kor always demands a Warden after all."[/color]

Finishing the small barrel, Heccarim got up and pulled out his lantern, kindling embers snowing down from it, [color=crimson]"And the Warden always demands a prisoner. After all, what's the difference between a grave and a cell?"[/color] The Drakken felt himself naturally slide back into character, his personality meshing flawlessly as he donned a new persona. And with a clang of his chain against lantern, his voice dropped and he laughed as fog spawned from the lantern and filled the room, [color=crimson]"Justice is blind, and so will my victims as well."[/color]

A deep, ethereal cackle erupted as the Warden disappeared in his own fog, now on the hunt for some new soul to torment and build even more infamy upon. Unfortunately for Sal-Tarvis, the fog made quite a mess leaving mildew everywhere. [color=fdc68a]"Heccarim, one of my servants is preparin-"[/color] the young Drakken walked in on a misty room covered in water, [color=fdc68a]"Motherfucker! Do he know how hard it is to get moisture out of these fucking walls? I just had them cleaned too… By the gods… Servants! Get down here and start cleaning this mess!"[/color]

[hider=Summary] After brooding in a local lord's basement and stealing some of his booze, Heccarim has a small villainy monologue about his duty and hoping his bride isn't as frail as one of his father's before preforming a dramatic exit to go and "hunting" in the city proper, leaving his host to deal with the related mess. [/hider]