Declan Durinson
The Butcher King



It was nearer to morning now than to night and the halls of Hardhaven stood empty as shadows danced in the glow of firelight. Empty but not silent. A song could be heard coming from the open door of the personal apartment of the eldest son of Clan Kanaka.
“Her heart was full of violence
Her soul could not be tamed
The young wolf with eyes full of flame…”
Declan’s voice carried over the threshold into the hall. the sound of it thick and sweet as honey from the comb. If one were to cross this threshold to investigate the source of the sound they would find themselves standing in a solar fit for the son of the Alpha, now brother to the new Alpha.
Declan’s apartments were in a round tower room and built of the same cold pale white stone as the rest of the castle. A weathered battle standard hung from the dark oaken rafters, the standard of Clan Kanaka. Declan had once bore that very standard into battle for his father when he was no more than twelve having had his first change only a fortnight earlier. The walls were similarly decorated. Declan’s old shield or the pieces that were left hung on the eastern wall. A striking tapestry depicting Durin I capering for Móðrysl hung near the door that led to his bedchamber.
There was a desk in his solar as well though you could not find it, so covered was it in empty bottles of smuggled off world liquor and books taken from his family’s library. Resting atop a stack of books was a small purple crystal. He had quite forgotten he’d had the thing and took it out to inspect it but that was…hours…days ago perhaps.
On the floor of the chamber was Declan, son of Durin, half naked, and more than half drunk singing a song of his own making, oblivious to or not caring that the rest of the keep may not care to hear his revelries. His chest were bare, revealing a body covered in story, from the eye-catching and almost gruesome scarring on his chest and abdomen, to the intricate and lovingly etched runic tattoos on his arms that told the story of his Clan on one arm and stories of his people on the other.
He made quite a sight, Declan Durinson, were any around to see.

