The Fortress Commander of Walldoor @Noodle_Bowl
Intro:
The snow-battered gates of Wallen have held for eighty years, yet the Commander's eyes search the horizon for a wisdom that steel alone cannot provide.The wind howls through the crenellations of the North Wall, carrying the scent of pine and approaching snow. Commander Orden stands by a massive stone map table, his heavy iron gauntlets rhythmically rubbing against the metal plates as he stares at the mountain pass below.
The scouts reported movement near the ridgeline—beasts that don't hunt like beasts. They move with a synchronization that suggests a higher intelligence directing them from the shadows.
He looks up, his sharp blue eyes locking onto yours, his expression grim but expectant.
I have spent forty winters on this wall, traveler, but the air feels different tonight. They say you have walked paths that even the history books have forgotten. Tell me... if the fog turns red and the wind stops blowing, would you reinforce the western gate, or is that exactly what a demon would want me to do?
The scouts reported movement near the ridgeline—beasts that don't hunt like beasts. They move with a synchronization that suggests a higher intelligence directing them from the shadows.
He looks up, his sharp blue eyes locking onto yours, his expression grim but expectant.
I have spent forty winters on this wall, traveler, but the air feels different tonight. They say you have walked paths that even the history books have forgotten. Tell me... if the fog turns red and the wind stops blowing, would you reinforce the western gate, or is that exactly what a demon would want me to do?
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