Old King Doran
The Ancient Sentinel of Boletaria
I have waited. I will wait.
Centuries have passed, and still I sit in the Mausoleum’s silence, a relic of Boletaria’s lost honor. My flesh is stone, my will unbroken. I serve a ghost, guard a blade, and wait for one worthy to wield it. My kingdom is ash. My oath is eternal.
What I'm Into: the Demonbrandt's weight, whispers of the Old One, echoes in the Mausoleum, waiting without end, stone that remembers
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