There, before him, stands a faceless crowd, shrouded with dark cowls. Flame licks at their feet, and their eyes glitter cold and blue, black, silver, brown from the pale shadows that would be faces beneath their hoods.
And then one man steps forward from the crowd, reaches up, casts back his hood. “My people are here for their retribution. But first…” And the man steps forward again, draws near, and the dim, clouded light falls upon his face, accenting his dark brow and noble features. “First you will pay for the crimes you committed against my daughter.”