“Hear that, my friend. It is
the call of the war drum. Thump,
Thump, a heartbeat and
it summons me to war”
-Arajuan to Socrates
A man with icy eyes and short salt and peppered hair gazed from a dark, tall, and jagged throne. He held a cherry wood scepter with carved woody thorns and a large garnet stone. The gem itself pulsed with cloudy swirls as if alive. He wore a deep navy robe with a dragon clasp at the neck and silver thread lining the sleeves. His aged face twisted into a bitter grimace as he tapped the armrest of his throne with impatience.
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