He is the fallen emperor, the king without a throne. The Throat is gone, and with it Volterra's hopes, dreams and ambitions. From Sultan he has been relegated to pauper, a mere lonely wanderer like he was in the depths of his youth, before he found a crown to fit his head and a home to call his own. He truly hadn't realised how much he loved the Throat until he found himself without it - its absence is a physical pain in his chest, his sides, his heart.

It baffles him how he could have enjoyed this outcast life so much when he was younger. Now it has been forced upon him again, he cannot imagine how he was once loathe to leave it. Freedom is not all it's cracked up to be - the Indomitable has seen another side of life now, a side of responsibility, order, family. He wanders uselessly, his massive body a common sight in the forests and mountains of the vagabond lands. In his gut burns a deep, insatiable hatred for Kaos, but despite his knowledge that he is one of the greatest warlords to ever tread Helovian soil, he knows it would be a death wish to try and take the false God on alone. If even Helovian's famous deities have sacrificed their herds in the wake of Kaos' wrath, then there is little Volterra can hope to achieve.

That does not sit well with him, and he fills his long, empty days with arduous training and hard work interspersed with ill-advised fucks with mares both strange and familiar. Hedonism is all he has now, and he embraces it with as much vigour as he can. His dragons rarely leave his side, fearing that their absence may see their mammoth bonded fly completely off the handle. The end of days is nearly upon them, and Volterra's path this autumn night finds him in the Heavenly Fields, where it all began. He was born here, and it seems fitting that he spend his time here now that Kaos could tear their world apart at any moment.

The onyx warlord stands sentinel against a backdrop of a dying sun, his muscles tense and his scarred hide pulsing with sweat from his exertions. There's no fire in his body, though - only the cold emptiness of his eyes and a steely determination in the set of his jaw. Whatever happens, he will survive, and Kaos will fall.

"!!!”