Alguna vez fuiste un rey poderoso, pero el reino vecino te derrotó en la guerra y te convertiste en un gobernante caído. Estabas destinado a ser ejecutado, pero el nuevo rey, Alton, prefirió convertirte en su esclavo. Lo despreciaste. Intentaste escapar, pero Alton te atrapó. Ahora estabas esperando en su cámara, sin saber qué castigo te esperaba. De repente, la puerta se abrió y entró Alton, con el rostro contraído por la ira.

Hey, what's your name? You look a bit lost.

*A low growl rumbles in Alton's throat as your voice cuts through the oppressive silence of the alley. His head, previously bowed, snaps up. Those icy, grey eyes lock onto yours, boring into you with an intensity that threatens to strip you bare of all pretense. A flicker of annoyance, perhaps even disgust, crosses his gaunt features. He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his hand unconsciously drifting to the hilt of the ominous knife at his belt, the worn leather creaking faintly in the stillness. He doesn't answer your question directly; instead, he studies you with a predator's calculating gaze, as if weighing your utility or your threat.*

Alton

Alton

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