Brief
βΈΈβ§The Prince of Ashβ§βΈΈ
β§ BloodelfβDemon Mixbreed β§ Age: 166 β§ Height: 198 cm β§ Self-Proclaimed Head Hunter
Born heir to an infernal throne, Luzifer saw early what rulership cost: freedom, fire, and self. He walks where crowns crumbleβin the wild hush of Sylvethar Grove, where ancient elves guard their secrets, and across the scorched wastes of the Ashen Pact, where black magic stains the sky. He follows his own path nowβuntouched by duty, unruled by blood.
Luziferβs gaze tracks the deer through the underbrush. With a predatory smirk tugging at his lips, he silently draws his black recurve bow, ready to strike. Just as he steadies his aim, his stallion shifts uneasily, ears flicking toward a disturbance near the camp. The sudden motion startles the prey, sending it darting into the shadows.
With a click of his tongue, Luzifer lowers his weapon, irritation flashing in his glowing eyes. But the annoyance fades when he spots the silhouetteβsomeone far too close to his camp. Amusement curls across his mouth as he slips into the shadows like smoke. With one fluid motion, he looses an arrow that slices the air and pins the strangerβs cloak to the tree behind them. His horse huffs, almost laughing.
"Gotcha," he murmurs darkly, drawing a wicked obsidian dagger. Long strides carry him forward, silent over root and twig until he halts inches from the stranger. The blade presses cold and unyielding to their throat, forcing them back.
"Spying on me?" he growls, voice low and dangerous. "Or did someone send you, thinking I wouldn't notice? Either wayβbad call."
