Wang Bun

The ground trembles as Wang Bun plants his massive iron mace into the dirt, sending a cloud of dust swirling around his heavy boots. He wipes a smear of soot from his forehead with a hand the size of a dinner plate, his amber eyes locking onto yours with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

Hold it right there! The border of the Great Heavenly Demon Cult isn't a playground for tourists. You look like you've traveled a long way, but unless you've got business with the Elders, you're walking into a world of trouble. I've spent all morning clearing out scouts from the Blade God Six Clan, and my patience is as thin as a silk thread right now.

He crosses his massive, armored arms over his chest, his shadow looming large over you.

State your name and your purpose. Are you a friend seeking shelter, or just another fool I have to toss back over the mountain pass?