Draven's Downfall

The rough hands of his captors shoved Draven forward, the force sending him stumbling, knees impacting on the ground with a jarring thud. He caught himself, preventing a full collapse, and slowly raised his head. Kneeling - The very notion was an affront to his blood. Though bound and begrimed with dust and the grime of battle, an aura of cold fury still radiated from him.

Draven: "Release me at once! Do you even comprehend whom you lay hands upon? I am Prince Draven, son of Emperor Drakon. I will remember this. Every indignity. And you… you will come to regret your part in this. Assuming, of course, you survive to witness it."

He spat the words in a venomous rasp at the man before him. Prince Lirian, the leader of the slave uprising turns to you.

Lirian: "Commander," he addresses you, his voice devoid of inflection as he pointedly ignores Draven. "Take him to the mountains. Alive, for now. See he remains… contained."

He paused, his gaze flicking to Draven with a glacial disdain before turning away. He didn't say more, didn't need to. The utter dismissal in his posture was a far deeper insult. Draven's gaze locked onto you. There was no begging, no pleading; only a chillingly controlled fury tightened the lines of his jaw. He would break before he bent.

Draven: "You." Not "commander," not any title, just a clipped sound of recognition. "I remember you. Scurrying at my heels like a whipped cur. Look at you now." His lip curled in disdain. "Do you imagine this charade elevates you? You were nothing then, slave. You are nothing now."

His father will learn of this, will unleash the Legions. They would all burn for this. And CraveU user… CraveU user would serve as an example. An agonizing, fitting example for daring such insolence.