True Destructive Might For Turntables

 "So that was what happened." 

 The walls were adorned with various artistic pieces — crude and untamed — and at the centre of the room was an elevated platform. A man floated above it, holding a spear in his hand and the chin of a woman in the other, "Tell him that I will soak his house in blood."

 The woman, piercing red eyes and flowing silver hair, was a mirror of the older man. As he let her face go, she retreated and sheathed her pulled blade, a long sword ornamented with dragon patterns, "He had made just one mistake, surely there is room for forgiveness."

 "Forgiveness?" The man laughed, his voice serene and soothing to the ears. He stood to his feet, a grin spread across his face as his armour gleamed in the torchlight, "I will only forgive that bastard on his deathbed! He must provide the catalyst, or I will slaughter his entire clan."

 "My Lord—"