Showers or baths? Why? Hot, lukewarm, or frigid? But why?
I feel like Nymeri would take freezing cold showers if she could. Though given the era they’re in it’s not really an option. Nymeri would relate the experience of a cold shower to standing under a waterfall. Although is may not be quite as severe, given her lust for power and bettering herself she would treat every opportunity in her life as a chance to train. Showers stay cold whereas baths can become room temperature and warm up, so the experience of taking a cold shower is much ore vexing than sitting in a tub of cold water that will eventually warm.
But given the era they are in, Nymeri prefers scalding hot baths to relax her muscles in the evening. She’s especially fond of the wrinkles that cover her hands and feet after she is finished with her shower.
Give a physical description of your antagonist. Include their face, body shape, and any rockin’ capes/masks/cool attire they might sport. Try to avoid cliches in your writing, while leaving a memorable image.
Volrahn was a very, very large man. He gained both the height of the Vali and the Dirgrazi, and he was built like a tank. His throne was also huge, built so only those large enough- powerful enough, could sit comfortably. His massive fists gripped the tops of the dragon heads that jutted out from the arms of the chair, both dragon heads a different colour; one like the platinum of a full moon, and the other black like trees burnt black and charred. They matched the kings own visage quite well. His skin was dark brown as the hardiest meads any tavern in the kingdom could serve, and his eyes gleamed with the silver of a snow wolfs pelt. Gold etchings infused naturally in his skin scattered across his body like tattoos covering a common man. They were the mark of the Dirgrazi warriors, and the amount that trailed his body showed what a warrior he was.
The throne itself was made of black metal and gold, and painstakingly detailed dragons crept around its entirety. It seemed King Volrahn was the one this throne had been built for, despite it being hundreds of years older than the king himself. A great scar of two dragons intertwining covered Volrahn’s large forearm, and he kept it uncovered for all to see. This was not his marking of the gods- the mark given to those the gods had deemed worthy enough to serve as their temple. That mark took up the entirety of his back; a dance of two dragons that used his body as a palette. The tattoo on his arm was just that, a tattoo that he had burned into his skin so that he may remind people why exactly he controls the throne.
His hair was black and braided back in several rows. A ponytail was kept together with a single golden band, and several braided rows of hair fell behind him, draping over his rich tunic that was a purple so dark it was almost black. He wore no crown, he didn’t find one necessary. Crowns belonged to the pretenders, and everyone knew he was king. Even so, the top of the throne in all its gold spikes reaching up seemed to depict its own crown on the head of the king. Thick gloves of the same purple covered his hands and wrists, and on his feet were boots that reached just below his knees. Masterfully woven gold accented his vest and pants, and the decorated the side of his boots and gloves playfully. His left arm was covered entirely by the long sleeves of his tunic, while his right was left bare to show off his tattoo.