Xarkly

The hero we didn't know we needed

For the sake of his lord brother, Villorik prayed that the wayward bloodline of Balian never spoke their dishonour in his presence. For their sake.

I actually think LotC is really a sum of its parts - from the Four Brothers to modern-day interactions between races. Taken individually, any given component could probably fit into any other fantasy setting pretty well.

Villorik of the White Comet had sworn to avenge the fallen Amaya. He would vanquish the Infernals that had done the murder -- it mattered little who aided them. Compared to that vengeance, nothing mattered at all.

Villorik would mourn for his brother in arms, but he would not weep - for there was no better way to die for a warrior of the Light.

Fire, thinks Patriarch Villorik.

This just seems like some silly vigilante stuff. Obviously any "romance RP" that goes beyond a general narrative context for your character (i.e., 'this person is my spouse which dictates how I interact with them' (good) vs. RPing in a locked castle bedroom in #w for 3 hours (bad)) is weird and can/should be punished as a matter of safety. Relationships (both platonic and otherwise) are often what makes a character nuance/relatable/interesting - I find the argument of "well you shouldn't play a dark CA unless you're going to be cardboard cut-out villain" because without this nuance (which can, but does not exclusively, come from their relationships) is just silly; you're still playing a character. If your character's only traits are "rawr i'm an evil demon" then your character probably sucks.

aw geez rick

"Took his dagger, hm?" Villorik of Westerwald sighed to himself as he beheld the frail form of a chicken, weakly lying on the ground, as the necrotic wound spread across it's feathered body. He glanced down at the dagger in question, slick with the chicken's blood from testing. Next time, the fool would lose more than his dagger.

dad

When he had first taken the mantle of Warpriest many years ago, he had forsworn his noble blood in service of the Light. Of all his vows, though, that may have been the weakest. The Blood of Ruther was not so easily denied.

Atop the Basilica's ramparts, Villorik's white cloak stirred in the wind, and his glaive shimmered in the moonlight.