A drow in black plate sat in a dungeon, a prisoner of a nation. The drow's armor was like that of a Samurai, plate squares on the shoulders and pieces of place covering black leather underneath. He carried a pair of katanas at his side and a rifle on his back. This drow, Daresh, knew the power of these weapons and his own power could break through this dungeon. He sat here, waiting, knowing that he would be found to have no relation to the incident, a razing of a city, that had landed him here. The drow's ebony skin was starkly contrasted by his long straight white hair, that went down to his waist. He bore a scar across his face from below his right eye to the center of his left cheek. His red eyes were watching in the dark when...
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