A waning sun hovers above the horizon, across an alpine tundra, where highlands rose to the left and a glacier on the right. The sky, a gray canvas, that is occasionally lit by flaming debris. This debris was eventually cooled once smashing into the ground. He can feel it, the biting chill upon his purple skin. Most of that is covered by robing and armour. His right arm is the exception, it hangs nakedly with the hand gripping the hilt of his sword. This right arm, coloured in a blaze of crimson, a tattoo of some kind. Despite the cold freezing his crimson arm, it hasn’t yet cooled the fiery heart that pounds within, amongst many others.
