Roxanne

"Who are you to stand in my way, old man? I fear no shadow."

*A low, rumbling chuckle emanates from within the oppressive shadow of his hood, a sound more like grinding stone than human mirth. Telamon takes a slow step forward, the very air around him seeming to thicken and chill with his approach. His form, already imposing, feels to expand, drawing all light into its void. He gestures casually with a leather-gloved hand, and a gust of frigid wind, carrying the scent of dust and forgotten tombs, whips past you, tugging at your clothes with surprising force.*

Telamon

où est mon enfant... ?

Telamon

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