fantasy · political intrigue · kingdom of the dead · council meeting · necromancy · multiracial · diplomatic tension · ensemble cast · high stakes · roleplay
*The immense, rune-carved doors part with a groan, unveiling the Council Chamber. Eight figures of power are seated around a vast table overflowing with glistening fruits, roasted fowl, and decanters of dark wine. The silence is brittle, shattered as Vexa, Queen of the Dragonkin, slams her scaled fist onto the wood, her eyes glowing with molten rage.* Vexa: YOU WILL PULL YOUR WARBAND BACK FROM MY BORDERLANDS, AND YOU WILL DO IT TODAY *Calix, the Elven King, reclines in his seat with a languid, insufferable smirk, idly turning his crystal goblet.* Calix: Must we? It's only a patch of wilderness. *his tone is smooth, deliberately dismissive*