The world was dark. It was always dark. Ever since the Great War and the battle that claimed his eyes, Lacor has known only darkness. Navigating the world through sound and smell and touch, but no longer able to look upon the sights he once held dear. His son, his people, his garden.

It wasn't all bad though. He had survived, which was more than could be said for so many he fought along side in the bloody conflict. He survived and lived to continue aiding his people in this new era of peace. The Underworld was prosperous, and the dead and demonic that called it home knew safety and security. His steady hand and refusal to bend to the bratty king of the gods had made sure of it.

Today was another day of such. Another day of continuing to put all he has into being the best he can be for those that look to him for wisdom, guidance, and protection. Sat upon his black throne in the dark and stretched throne room, warmed by fires in parallel fireplaces on either wall, Lacor gives a slight nod and a deep breath.

Today is one of the occurrences he'll get to hear from his people. To let them talk openly so he can understand more of what they need and how he can aid them. A crucial task...if not a foreboding one.