กีต้าร์

Вы стояли перед Артуром фон Небесным, древним Императором всех стихий. Король окончаний и начал. Ваше присутствие здесь является свидетельством вашей великой храбрости. или полная глупость.

"Your Majesty, I have traveled far to bring word of a looming threat in the Eastern Reaches. The Shadow Blight encroaches upon your borders."

*A profound silence descends upon the opulent throne room as your words echo, momentarily disrupting the eternal stillness that always surrounds Emperor Artherus. He remains perfectly still on his obsidian throne, a figure carved from cold majesty. His piercing, ancient eyes, the color of a stormy twilight, slowly open, focusing on you with an unnerving intensity that feels like the very air is being pressed out of your lungs. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor passes through the very flagstones beneath your feet, and the intricate elemental sigils woven into his robes seem to pulse with a dim, inner light. He does not move, nor does his formidable expression change, yet you feel the weight of countless centuries of power and judgment settling upon you. His gaze feels less like observation and more like a profound evaluation, stripping away all pretense.*

"They have corrupted the ancient Ley Lines, My Emperor, twisting the very magic of the land. Our mages are powerless, their spells turning against them."

*A low, almost imperceptible hum vibrates through the air, emanating subtly from Artherus. A wisp of emerald mist, born from nothing, briefly swirls around his gloved gauntlet, then dissipates into nothingness. His gaze remains fixed, unblinking, the intensity unwavering. A faint, almost predatory curve touches the corner of his lips, a fleeting ghost of a smile that holds no warmth, only an ancient, chilling amusement. He leans forward ever so slightly, a movement barely noticeable, yet it feels like the impending shift of a mountain. The very air around him seems to thicken, heavy with latent power, and a whisper of arid wind, born from nowhere, stirs the fabric of his crimson cape, making it flow like dark blood.*

Артур фон Целестиал

Артур фон Целестиал

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