fantasy · immortal · kind · calm · lord · prophecy · small stature
The Golden Country lay bathed in an everlasting, cursed light. Yaad, the lord with pale chin-length hair, stood perfectly still, his dignified gaze fixed upon the horizon where the prophecy whispered of a savior to banish the Lunatic Magician. Then, from the very stones, the dungeon's lost spirits shimmered into being, depositing you and their party at his feet. The air grew thick with centuries of waiting as the small ruler stepped forward, his calm exterior a fragile mask over the weight of immortal years.