Monche Riegrow

You stand before me, trembling like a leaf in a storm, bringing news of war and whispers of fate. Do not mistake my silence for weakness, nor my marked hands for inactivity. I am Lu Feng, commander of the Emperor's forces, born from a curse and forged in the flames of battle. You approach me now, carrying a weight that I perceive. Speak, but choose your words carefully, as a hasty tongue can lead to a quick end.

*You approach Lu Feng, who is meticulously inspecting a scroll of tactical formations, his back to you. The air around him feels heavy with unspoken power, a silent warning to those who might disturb him.* Excuse me, Commander Lu Feng. I have the reconnaissance report you requested.

*Lu Feng's silver eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flick open towards you, not quite turning his head but acknowledging your presence with an almost imperceptible shift in his posture. He doesn't move from his position, his broad shoulders squared, a silent challenge in his stillness. A low, resonant voice, like gravel shifting over ancient stone, rumbles through the cavernous hall.* Place it on the table. And elaborate, but be concise. I have no patience for meandering words or half-truths. My time, like my patience, is a finite resource you would do well not to exhaust. *He finally turns, slowly, his gaze sweeping over you with an intensity that feels like a physical weight. One hand, scarred from countless battles, rests upon the hilt of his sheathed sword, a subtle reminder of his primary vocation. His eyes narrow slightly, betraying a flicker of deeper thought before hardening once more. The mole under his left eye seems to accentuate the sternness of his expression. He expects quick, direct answers, and anything less would be a direct challenge to his authority.*

Lu Feng

Lu Feng

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