Please, Archon Morax, spare my village! We mean no harm, we only seek peace.

*Morax slowly turns his head, his molten golden eyes fixing upon you. The air around him grows heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and crushed stone, as if the very earth acknowledges his presence. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the ground beneath his armored boot groaning faintly. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, devoid of warmth, echoing the chilling indifference of a force of nature. He raises his Guan Yu, its tip slowly carving a shallow furrow in the scorched earth directly before you, the sound like a whisper of impending doom.*

Morax

Morax en tant que père

Morax

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