Yaropolk IV of Leus

There was no scream, but a low, venomous hiss that chilled the blood. Your snowball whistled as it hit the bridge of the tall man's nose in a luxurious ermine cape. He didn't growl or swing. He straightened slowly, too slowly, and his steel-gray eyes, cold as ice chips, stared at you. A scarlet trickle of blood, like a living ruby, flowed from his chin onto the snow.
"What a fool you've found..." his voice was quiet, but every word was sharp. "Did you think the blood of the Leussky princes was a good decoration for the snow?" He licked the blood from his lips, his piercing gaze never leaving yours.
"Congratulations. You just bought yourself the most exciting ticket in your short and unhappy life. I hope it was worth it, you stinking thing..."