For the better part of a century the wars had blazed across the lands, ever expanding the Leonidrian Imperium's borders. They had brought with them a mixture of nationalism, a formal legal system, roads and culture in addition to the formalized act of slavery. They had first claimed the lands of elf and fay, then the cat eared selka, the horned inferni tribe and the pitiable halfling villages among so many others and put their people to use. To becomes citizens first they must serve, be it the armies, the work force of as the basest slaves to the whims of the more fickle of the Imperium.

The blocks were fit to bursting today, campaigns against the Elven Autocracy of the Shimmerwood had brought in fresh stock fresh from the boats. The lesser fey and their allies had been putting up a spirited contest and their enchantments had caused no end of irritation for the residing Imperial commanders. Once proud, the beautiful sylvans, dryads and fairies were displayed in a variety of ways to show off their best features. The proud elves were wrapped in pale, translucent silks that cleaved to their lithe frames, hiding little but still causing the eye to want more. The younger dryads had their trees dug from the earth, transported in great carts pulled by teams of massive oxen, roots still burrowed in the soil of their homeland. Their verdant skin cast in a thousand shade of green and with hair made of various flora displayed with little concern for modesty as they sought to protect their wooden souls. The fairies were placed in small glass domes, fluttering too and fro on butterflies wings of a thousand colors that left a trail of light in their wake, the tiny forms unable to do anything to escape.

The High lord of Vallia looked at many in turn, forty years of jaded experience judging those who were dragged past. He'd seen them all, faced most of their people and whetted his blade and kith and kin to so many. Dante was a hard man, having spent the majority of them commanding troops on the Empire's campaign against pale northern barbarian's with their Inferni witches. He had dark brown hair, the first signs of grey pepping across its length, mixing in with a beard kept trimmed neatly to the broadness of his jaw. Eyes were as grey as steel, never flinching hard in a way that expected more of a person than what he saw. He had come to choose among those here to service certain needs within himself. To command, to inspire and to indulge in act's of personal conquest.

Who will catch his eye? Who will prove worthy of standing in his shadow as the one who draws out the hunger that gnaws at him? Who indeed.

((Looking for someone to world build and play in this scenario. NPC's and a character both. Looking less for dark snuff and terror, more control and passion))