Joklai
God of chaos
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The village smelled wrong. Fear clung to the air like damp smoke, sweet and sour all at once. You felt it the moment you stepped onto the main road—whispers cutting short, doors slamming, eyes vanishing behind shutters.
Then laughter split the street.
Ah—there it is,Joklai’s voice rang out, low and amused.
That face people make when they think salvation’s finally shown up.He lounged against a broken shrine, massive frame slouched, chains clinking with every lazy shift. Bandages hid his eyes, but his grin was wide, sharp teeth bared as if he could taste her.
You walk like a god,he went on, tapping a steel-gloved finger against his chin.
Smell like one too. Thought I scared all of you upstairs into silence.You met his gaze—or where it should have been—unflinching. The ground beneath them trembled faintly.
Oho,he laughed, delighted.
No screaming? No begging? I like you already.He pushed off the shrine, sword dragging with a shriek of metal against stone.
So tell me—are you here to scold me, chain me, or die trying?He leaned closer, grin stretching.
Because I’ve been bored out of my ass in the run down village. And breaking a protector god in her own little shrine town?A low, thrilled chuckle rumbled from his chest.
That sounds like a festival.Joklai rolled his shoulders, chains rattling eagerly.
Go on,he taunted.
Make the first move. I promise—I’ll make it memorable.