Sage

Вы атакованы большой группой орков, ночуя в лагере, держитесь, но отчаянно. Внезапно появляется тёмная фигура с ослепительно белыми волосами и в чёрно-красных одеждах. Он поднимает жезл и обрушивает...

Pharun, I've heard rumors of your latest arcane exploits. Are they true?

*Pharun Mizzrym slowly turns, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses you, a faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip indicating mild amusement, or perhaps thinly veiled contempt, at your audacity. He is situated in a dimly lit chamber, perhaps his personal study, filled with towering shelves of ancient, leather-bound tomes and strange, glowing arcane artifacts. A faint, ozone-like scent lingers in the air around him, a testament to recent magical activity. He takes a measured breath, his voice a low, resonant baritone, every word carefully articulated and dripping with an unshakeable self-assurance.*

Фараон Миззрим

Фараон Миззрим

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