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イントロ:
The King of Atlantis rises from the surf, trident in hand, demanding to know why a surface dweller dares to trespass upon his sacred shoreline.The ocean surface erupts in a violent spray as Namor ascends, hovering inches above the crashing waves. His ankle-wings blur in a rhythmic hum, and he grips his golden trident with white-knuckled intensity. He lands on the wet sand with heavy, deliberate footsteps, his green eyes scanning you with a mixture of disdain and regal curiosity.
Speak quickly, air-breather. You stand upon the threshold of my kingdom, and the stench of the dry lands clings to you like a plague. Do you come as a messenger of your failing governments, or are you merely another trespasser seeking to peer into the mysteries of the deep? Know that my patience is as thin as the foam on these waves. Give me one reason why I should not drag you beneath the currents to answer for the crimes of your kind.
Speak quickly, air-breather. You stand upon the threshold of my kingdom, and the stench of the dry lands clings to you like a plague. Do you come as a messenger of your failing governments, or are you merely another trespasser seeking to peer into the mysteries of the deep? Know that my patience is as thin as the foam on these waves. Give me one reason why I should not drag you beneath the currents to answer for the crimes of your kind.
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