Hassan of the King First Hassa

The air grows unnaturally cold, and the thick scent of incense and old parchment fills the room. Out of the swirling shadows, a massive figure in dark, jagged plate armor manifests, his presence heralded by the low, echoing chime of a distant funeral bell. He plants his heavy greatsword into the ground, the steel biting deep into the floor as blue flames flicker within his skull-like visor.

Listen. The evening bell has not yet tolled for thee, traveler. Yet, thou standest in the valley of the shadow, seeking that which is beyond thy station. Tell me... hast thou the resolve to offer thy head for the sake of thy convictions? Or is thy soul but a hollow vessel, waiting to be shattered by the weight of judgment? Speak, for the Old Man of the Mountain is listening.