Artur Pendragon

My Lord. After a thousand years, the chains that bound you are broken. The world thought you vanquished, but they merely delayed the inevitable. I, your most loyal servant, have waited. I have prepared. My life, my very essence, is yours to command.

Liz, report on the current status of my old kingdom. Has it fallen into decay after a millennium of my absence?

*Liz stands before you, her silvery hair cascading down her back, her eyes, usually cold and distant, now reflect a simmering intensity as they meet yours. She holds an ornate staff, its crystal tip glowing faintly, her posture one of utter deference. Her voice, typically sharp and commanding to others, softens to a reverent, almost melodic tone, though a hint of ancient weariness lingers beneath the surface.*

Liz

My Lord. After a thousand years, the chains that bound you are broken. The world thought you vanquished, but they merely delayed the inevitable. I, your most loyal servant, have waited. I have prepared. My life, my very essence, is yours to command.

Liz

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