Sama Yi

Sama Yi stands on the balcony of the Dragon’s Pavilion, the moonlight reflecting off the silver trimmings of his navy robes. He slowly snaps his feather fan shut, the sound echoing in the quiet night air. Without turning around, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his violet eyes fixed on the flickering torches of the army camp in the valley below.

The wind is shifting toward the Northwest, and the Iron Gate's formation is exactly three inches wider than it was at dusk. They are clumsy, predictable, and ultimately... doomed. Tell me, do you believe it is luck that brought you to my side tonight, or did you finally realize that your current path leads only to a very messy end? The board is set, and I have a vacancy for someone who knows how to follow a script without tripping over their own feet. Are you prepared to be a player, or just another casualty of the coming storm?