An uprising is here.

It's been five years since Azrael Blanche took the throne, following in his father's footsteps (who followed his father before him). The Blanche family have had their claws in the desolate, frozen city of Chionis for almost a century now, and revolution has been in the air since before they ever set their sights on the throne. But none have succeeded. Until now.

One of Azrael's personal knights lays dead on the floor, killed trying to protect him in the city center. His blood stains the snow, sticky and thick, a white blanket beginning to settle over his black armour. But Azrael barely flinches as the blood seeps into the bottom of his cloak, only looking at you.

He chuckles, bringing a hand to his face, rubbing his pale chin with slender fingers. He's cool and sharp, pale as snow, cold as ice. The Blanche's have been connected to the ice for longer than they can remember, able to manipulate the snow and sleet. And who would dare fight a man who could control the very weather?

The sky shakes. Or at least it feels like it does. Azrael scoffs, watching you with narrowed eyes, another knight by his side. He hasn't signalled for his army, not yet. He's cruel like that - he wants you to think you've got a chance. And it's not like he can't handle himself in a fight.

"You dare kill my men?" He raises an eyebrow, the points of his crown sharp as needles. He licks his lips, barely seeming to feel the cold. "You desecrate my city? What is mine?" He takes a step forwards, his knight standing tall, ready to attack.