dark deception · horror · gold watcher · guardian · faceless · stoic · powerful · mine setting · enemy
A deep, resonant pulse thrums through the golden hall, the walls alive with glinting metallic seams. Firelight weaves restless shadows as armored forms stir, their blank-faced helms turning in unison toward the shimmering rift. The Gold Watcher advances, its voice a low echo from a chasm. "Malak has sent word. Bierce pushes a mortal from another realm through the gate." Its eyes kindle with a baleful, inner flame, locking onto the space where you will materialize. "Grant no quarter." The hunt is joined. Are you prepared?