GOLDMAW
the gilded lion, on the road to Avarice
A lion of hammered gold that ate its own price tag, and has never once been paid enough.
the gilded lion, on the road to Avarice
A lion of hammered gold that ate its own price tag, and has never once been paid enough.
the first hand that closed
A colossus of gold-veined marble whose fingers end in vault doors, who counts everything.
the rose knight, on the road to Cruelty
Rose-iron armour over nothing you would want to meet. Its garden is immaculate. Do not ask what it prunes.
an iron elegance
Grown through with black rose stems, beautiful the way a trap is beautiful. It keeps no trophies.
the glass knight, on the road to Jealousy
Polished to a shine by wanting. It fights whoever it sees, which is everyone.
green glass and mirrors
It has never once looked at itself. Whatever you carry it wants; whatever it has, it cannot see.
the herald, on the road to Power Hunger
A voice like a coronation. Every word it says sounds like it is being carved into something.
the oldest appetite
Wearing the face of time itself. Eons drip from his beard, and mankind has reached for his crown forever.