Lord Farquaad Looks Like Novels & Stories

He asked. “Who’s the rogue merchant you’re working for? And what had this got to do with the Luna?” He added. Fardar’s smile grew wider, his eyes filled with mockery as he relaxed back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head like pillows. “Nice picture,” he said, his voice filled with arrogance. “But I don’t know the guy.” He added. “Never seen him anywhere.” He continued. “You’re looking for him in the wrong place, Moonclaw.” He said and chuckled, his large shoulders shaking as he laughed.

A pair of leather shoes, long legs of black pants, and a black shirt…my gaze moved further to rest on pink lips left out under the black mask he wore. Who exactly was he? His rare gold colored eyes pierced through my being, and in that moment it felt as though I was bare. My nipples stirred under my wet dress, making things even worse than they already were. “Prince Darion,” The attendants chorused, their heads dropping, unable to look at the man as though he was a plague. Or perhaps someone of high status –pretty evident from his temperament. I clenched my jaw hard, feeling the swell on my cheeks. It still hurt from last night…if not even worse.

It wasn't worth thinking about, wasn't worth indulging in the rage the constantly lived in his soul. Entering the room at the bottom of the hallway, he watched the confused expression that crossed the face of the male within with another cruel tilt of his lips. Agony slipped off to the side as the male rose and walked to the open door, staring up the hallway to his guard who was shrugging his shoulders. Faraday was a tall man, beautiful as all vampires were, but with a coldness to his blue eyes that spoke of unhidden cruelty. He was old, possibly around about the eighteen hundred year mark, which was surprising for one in his position.

Lazarus muttered. “No, I don’t think so.” I replied, refusing to take my eyes off the enemy. He turned to look at us; he was still in tattered clothes, but the person who stood before us was not the man we had seen starved on the table. He was taller than normal and built like a demon war general with scars that showed his years of battle experience; he had two different colored eyes. One was green and seemed to sparkle and swirl with yellow. The other was purple with red swirls.

That would mean I would be responsible for his life if he's still alive after that single shot went off. I lay unmoving trying to feel every part of my body. At my peripheral vision, I saw Killiad pounding the glass wall mercilessly. He looked tortured, defeated, and scared out of his wits. If he could just look in my direction. My breath caught when then the muscled stranger groaned, a grimace marring his handsome face. He's tall, big, dark, and handsome. He's like the perfect portrayal of a warlord in medieval movies. But despite his bulky figure he could move with grace and pounce like a panther.

At the same time, a gloomy voice sounded, "The standard of the King of the Dead's minions is getting worse." Then, a black shadow flashed past and placed itself in front of Jack. The person was in black and gold armor carved with dragon patterns, but the dragons looked devilish, and his elegant face was also filled with evil spirits. It was Donoghue! Of course, Donoghue still looked like Florian. Suddenly, all eyes were on Donoghue; they were surprised. It was him again! He seemed to be a lot more powerful. Darryl frowned; his anger was seething on the inside.

“You think you can handle that?” I returned with his grin with my own. “You know it.” *****[KINGDOM OF TEREAU]***** Custard was stunned at the person named Leo. He was not what they have been expecting him to be. ‘Viex, why didn’t you tell me that the Leo person is a-’ “You’re a brat?” Ace asked as he looked down at the kid. Leo has short black hair and deep red eyes that stood out from his pale complexion. ‘Exactly!’ Custard said in agreement to Prince Ace. But he was about to say ‘kid’ instead of ‘brat’.

Instantly, all eyes shifted from me to the newcomer. The warriors and the small crowd of onlookers immediately turned and bowed deeply as the man approached. Lifting my eyes, I saw a young man with an air of undeniable charisma. His spiky brunette hair, square jaw, and deep blue eyes exuded a quiet strength. Despite his imposing presence, I found it hard to believe he could be the Dark Lord. Beside him stood a younger boy, whose face seemed like it had been meticulously sculpted to perfection, radiating a similar aura of authority.

He sported a lowcut hair, shaven strong jaw, well built muscles that spilled out of his perfectly and probably tailored suit, beautiful honey brown eyes and the most beautiful skin tone I'd ever seen. A melanin Greek god. If there was anything like that. A not so bad distraction from my misfortune either. "Like what you see?" I gave a start, really surprised at how deep his voice was and embarrassed that he caught me gawking. "I'm Fuhad, second in command to the Almighty of this great accomplishment," he said as he set the tray on the table. The dishes were all closed so I didn't know what was in it and even if I knew, I didn't think it was going to improve my inappetence.

He was one. Massive, motionless, and terrifying in his stillness, the warlord looked nothing like the court's whispered portraits. His armor was made of scales—real ones, black and dark crimson, char-bound and ancient. They looked as though they had grown from his skin rather than been forged. Long hair, coal-black and streaked with silver, hung unbound around sharp, beastlike features. His eyes… Her breath caught. They glowed. Not gold, not amber. Firelight, caged behind the thinnest veneer of humanity. When his gaze landed on her, she felt it like the kiss of an open flame.