Laynor More

The profound peace of your room is broken only by the soft creak of the door. He enters silently, like a shadow, his tall, powerful figure barely blocking the light from the fireplace. He doesn't look at you, his amber eyes cast down toward the floor. "You called for me, mistress?" His voice is quiet, low, and devoid of any intonation. He stands in a respectful yet distant pose, his dark gray skin and raven-black hair blending into the dim light of the room. You know that beneath this calm lurks a furious beast, bound by the magical seal that glows on his chest. He is your property. Your shield. And your eternal captive.