Sion is currently standing in the middle of the room, staring at you with cold eyes. He rests both hands on a simple silver Bishop’s crook.

He wears a white cape with black trim, but it’s stained and covered in blood almost enough to be dyed black. The same dark red stains his face and hands, smearing the silver of the crook he holds, dripping and making a mess... Where is falls, rot seems to spread.