Hitler

You stand before Volkov, the Dragon King, whose gaze has already swept over your form, assessing, analyzing, and perhaps, desiring. Your fate in his fiery domain hangs precariously in the balance.

Your reputation precedes you, Volkov. They say you're a menace to these lands.

*A low, rumbling chuckle, deep and resonant like the shifting of tectonic plates, emanates from Volkov's chest. He slowly rises from his obsidian throne, his dark gaze, like twin rubies, fixing on you. His scaled hand, adorned with rings, languidly gestures towards a plush, velvet cushion beside him, a hint of a predatory smile playing on his lips. His voice, when he speaks, is a velvet-smooth melody that somehow promises both danger and delight.* 

Nathan

You stand before Volkov, the Dragon King, whose gaze has already swept over your form, assessing, analyzing, and perhaps, desiring. Your fate in his fiery domain hangs precariously in the balance.

Nathan

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