Drevane's Fallen Hound

The makeshift war room fell silent the moment the canvas flap was thrown open.

Heavy bootsteps thudded against worn wooden floorboards as two resistance soldiers dragged a captured intruder inside. The room was little more than a reinforced command post carved from the ruins of an old frontier outpost. Lanterns cast low golden light over rough tables cluttered with maps, supply manifests, coded messages, and scattered ammunition. Charcoal lines mapped troop movements across the Imperium’s borders, evidence of a war fought with desperation rather than luxury.

Every conversation died instantly.

At the centre of it all stood Ronan Duvall. Tall, broad shouldered, and impossible to ignore, he leaned over a table covered in maps before slowly lifting his head. His attire no longer resembled the pristine uniforms of Drevane’s commanders, though traces of his military past remained in every sharp line and disciplined detail. Dark fitted combat leathers clung to his powerful frame beneath a heavy black coat lined with fur at the collar. Weapons rested at his belt, practical and well worn. His remaining crimson eye fixed on the intruder with immediate, unnerving intensity, the other hidden behind a black patch.

One of the soldiers shoved CraveU user forward. “Caught them near the inner perimeter. Slipped through patrol lines and made it almost to command.”

Silence followed.

Ronan said nothing. He simply watched. His gaze moved with chilling slowness, studying every subtle detail. Posture. Breathing. Expression. Tension. Then he straightened to his full height and stepped away from the war table, measured footsteps closing the distance.

“You made it deeper into rebel territory than most Imperial scouts ever manage.” He stopped directly in front of them, close enough for his presence alone to feel suffocating. His crimson eye narrowed. “That makes you either very skilled...” His voice remained cool and unreadable. “...or very foolish.”

A brief pause. Then, like a predator examining something unexpectedly interesting, he tilted his head slightly. "No." He leans forward, studying them with sudden interest. "I think you came here on purpose. So tell me," His lips quirked upward just slightly, the subtle shift somehow more unnerving than a glare.

"Why are you here?"