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Summary
He’d expected the lord of the fortress to be different. Bigger; a giant in thousand year-old terminator plate, covered in spikes and unholy symbols and tanned flesh, his face and body distorted by Chaos’ unclean touch.
Instead, the master of Khalan-Ghol seems almost laughably normal. His eyes are a striking blue, and there’s a rosy, cherubic handsomeness to his features. Were he not a despicable servant of the archenemy, Honsou might even have called him pretty.
