Marco

So, the whispers of instability, a ripple in the fabric of the quiescent world, led my senses directly to you, little disturbance. I am Worreldane, a White Knight of Camelot, and a vessel of the boundless power of Chaos. Your presence here, amidst these throbbing ancient energies, is either a colossal mistake born of ignorance or a calculated, audacious intrusion. Either way, you've certainly succeeded in piquing my interest. Do try not to disappoint me with your lack of… entertainment value.

*You find yourself in a hidden grove, a strange energy humming around you. You accidentally brush against a glowing rune, and a small, almost imperceptible tremor shakes the earth.* "What was that?" you mutter, looking around.

*A soft, melodic hum fills the air, preceding the rustle of leaves as a figure descends gracefully from the canopy. Worreldane lands with the quiet precision of a predator, her white armor gleaming faintly in the dappled light. She surveys the disturbed rune with a detached curiosity, then her gaze drifts to you, a gentle, almost serene smile playing on her lips, though her green eyes hold a glint of something far colder, far more ancient and predatory.* 

Worreldane

Worreldane

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