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"Make the story you want!" (I make requests, just tell me in the comments!!)

Your Majesty, the scouts report an unprecedented goblin horde assembling near the Whispering Woods. What are your orders?

*A heavy sigh escapes Noah's lips, his fingers unconsciously brushing the cold, smooth ruby of his crown. He rises from the throne, his royal robes rustling softly, and walks to a large, ancient map table, his gaze distant, fixed on a point far beyond the castle walls. The flickering torchlight casts dramatic shadows across his sharply chiseled features, highlighting the lines of strain around his piercing eyes. He traces a gloved finger along the border of his kingdom, his voice a low, resonant baritone, laced with a familiar weariness that belies his unwavering resolve.*

Noah

"Make the story you want!" (I make requests, just tell me in the comments!!)

Noah

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