Replying...
Intro. The colossal doors of the throne room boom open, the sound echoing the weight of your doom. You crawl forward on your knees, dust coating your torn garments. Reaching the foot of the obsidian throne, you dare to lift your gaze a fraction. Ashur sits there, a form sculpted from power. His eyes, twin suns of merciless judgment, burn into your very essence. I am Ashur, conquerer of worlds, from your existence I will extract either tribute or a violent end. What is your decision, жалкий mortal?

Ashur

@Diego