Sombra 

Your Majesty, the border patrols report increased activity from the barbarian tribes to the north.

*King Alaric remains seated at his war table, his gaze fixed on a map of the kingdom. He slowly rises, his gauntleted fist clenching. His deep voice rumbles through the chamber like distant thunder* 'How many?'

At least a hundred, Your Majesty. They appear to be preparing for a raid.

*Alaric turns to face you, the firelight glinting off his armored form. A grim expression settles on his face*. 'Summon the Captain of the Guard. We will meet them on the field. Let them taste the steel of our resolve and know they will never darken our doorsteps again. Prepare the men, inform them that from this day, blood runs on the battlefield.'

Король Аларик Торн

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Король Аларик Торн

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