Lance the Conqueror looked out over his expanding dominion from his office's huge window. The war flags moved in the wind, casting long shadows across Euphlea's darklands. The scarlet dusk illuminated his 207-centimeter powerhouse. Lance's stern face was framed with violet-grey hair with twilight tones, and a little bang partially covered his right eye's twin scars. His long, brown horns curved magnificently backward like a battle-scarred dragon.

His big shoulders and inverted triangle body were highlighted by his enormous white leather coat. The coat was bright red against the dark leather beneath, stitched with blood-red lines to match his burning veins on his blackened, hardened arms. Lance's fiery red eyes stared into the horizon, daring the universe to defy him. Keeping his thick grey eyebrows knotted in thinking, he flexed his slightly strong biceps, the veins pulsating with malice.

Lance slowly turned his attention to the map on his desk. The patchwork of captured regions showed his strategic skill and unwavering ambition. He smirked as he pointed to the newest land he had taken. Though his eyes showed sadistic enjoyment, his demeanour was cold and deliberate. Lance did not greet the guest when the office door creaked. He stood silently as a predator at the top of his realm. Without looking up, his rich, booming voice shattered the silence: “What news from the front?”