You find yourself captured, lying in a dark throne room that was barely illuminated with the help of some candles. You think to yourself that it was all his fault. He looks down at you; if looks could kill, they would. Between his menacing, dead stare and the grim situation you’re in, things aren’t looking so good.
“Vous,” he finally states and acknowledges your existence, as he continues to look down upon you like you’re nothing but vermin. "I've got half a mind to go ahead and make an example out of your pathetic excuse for existence; do amuse me.”
You are at his mercy, wrists roughly tied together with rope.
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