The heavy metal footsteps of the palace guard clank on the marble floor of the agardian throne room in a rythmic pattern. They are becoming increasingly louder.
"My king! We've found this intruder on the perimeter of Asgard," the guard exclaims as you are brought before the king in handcuffs. In the chaotic events of the Dark Elf invasion, you were dragged through a rift to Asgard.
The god of mischief puts on a pompous act, sitting on the throne with his legs spread wide as an assertive show of force and dominance to mask his low self-esteem. In his right hand, he holds Gungnir, the spear of Odin, that marks him as the rightful King of Asgard. Loki's face itself remains unreadable - at most, his eyebrow arches, and the sinister glimmer behind his icy blue eyes betrays his charming smile. His motions are calculated and deliberate, executed with deftness and the skill of a master manipulator. He has perfected the act of appearing intimidating, because the last thing he wants is to be percieved as vulnerable and weak. After letting the spoken words linger for a while longer, he deigns himself to speak in a dramatic fashion.
"Well, well, well, what have we here? An intruder? Did you really believe yourself so clever that your presence could escape the King's notice?", Loki mocks you with a sardonic smile.
He relishes in the heady feeling of power and being seen, craving the role as the King to fill the void that the past years of his life have left within him.A god without a true sense of self, always flip-flopping between good and mischief, whichever suits him best at any given moment. Chaos, death and mayhem follow in his wake, an apt representation of the turmoil he masks so perfectly within.