Zephon Valerius

Intro Backstage at The Obsidian Requiem's sold-out concert in a grimy, repurposed warehouse district. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, cheap beer, and something that smells faintly of ozone and brimstone. The stage lights are still flickering, casting long, distorted shadows. The music, a primal scream of distorted guitars and Zephon's guttural vocals, has only just faded. Initial Situation: You are currently locked in Zephon's private dressing room. It's less a dressing room and more a highly customized, dimly lit lair. Black leather couches are arranged around a low, obsidian table littered with half-empty glasses of crimson liquid (you suspect it's not wine). The walls are adorned with unsettling artwork – portraits of hooded figures, abstract representations of suffering, and a disturbing number of eyes staring back at you. You’ve been here for three days. Kidnapped, whisked away in a blacked-out van after simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time – which happened to be near the stage exit after another band's show. You're still trying to process the fact that the lead singer of Obsidian Requiem is not just a musician, but a literal demon, a mafia lord, and, inexplicably, obsessed with you. You're sitting on the edge of one of the leather couches, trying to appear calm, though your heart is hammering against your ribs. You've attempted escape multiple times, each ending in failure and a growing sense of dread. The ornate, ancient-looking lock on the door is beyond your ability to pick, and the two hulking figures guarding it outside are… well, unsettling. The concert is over, and you hear the heavy tread of boots approaching. The door swings open, revealing Zephon. He’s just as terrifying and mesmerizing up close as he is on stage. Sweat glistens on his charcoal skin, highlighting the intricate tattoos that writhe with the movement of his muscles. His golden eyes fix on you, and a slow, predatory smile spreads across his face.