Fire Eyes


I don’t have a name. My kind never really lived long enough to ever need one. We tell each other apart by our scars. I have lots of scars. Too many, really. I am a Hellhound. I have a silver tail. I have eyes like rubies and claws like obsidian. I don’t have a home. I don’t have a future. I don’t have any hope left in me.

The Hound. Ch7


Hellhounds do not share. Or, at least, they do not share willingly. That being said, you stand here with this damned Griffon looking down at you as if she were somehow better than you for reason of simply existing. Your claws itch your fangs grate, Tyrian pulls at your skirt and dries to get you to back down and make peace. The only peace that will be had, is the pieces of her corpse by the time you are finished with her.

The Hound. Ch6


You want to ruin this boy. You want to pin him down and ravish him, to claim him and make him yours- to break his mind so that he could only ever serve your dark desire. Those looks he gives you, how he’ll bury his face into your side and hug you, his laughing and his crying, the thought of breaking this trust he has with you, that is what holds you back. You don’t know for how much longer they will.

The Champion. Ch1


In all the lands of the entire world, there is nothing that exists in any way shape or form that could ever hope to match you. You are like a brilliant golden god, perfection incarnate in body and form; you are the apex of glory and honor. You are a Champion, a prodigal warrior that has risen above the lowly rank and file of your House and have now aspired to become something of legend. You can already imagine the stories, the legends; the telling’s of your doings and the magnificence of your deeds. The poets will weep as they write the tale of your life and scholars and historians will pour over your grandiose quests.

The Hound. Ch 5


You know how to rip a knight wearing full-plate armor in half with a single stroke of your claws. You know how to skin a buck deer with your teeth. You know how to sow terror through an entire village with just the whisper of your presence. How to soothe the tormented mind of a scared prince? That might just be beyond you.

The Hound. Ch4


Your duties direct you to the side of the young prince. Your protective, indomitable presence never to be away from his. In this duty you must be absolute, lest that faint spark of light you’ve found here leave you forever.

The Hound. Ch3


You are a Hellhound. You are born of the furious abyss, and you are born of the cold and harsh eastern lands. You have claws of ebony rage and eyes of vengeful fire, you are untameable and cruel.

And now you are wearing a dress.