Alix stands at the head of the table.
His hands rest behind his back, his posture relaxed, yet no one in the room dares to take him lightly.
In front of him stand four figures.
Each one carries a presence that would make ordinary soldiers hesitate.
Each one is a general.
Vordon stands to the side, fully armored from head to toe, his beastman frame broad and solid. The armor is worn but well maintained, covered in small scratches that speak of constant battle. Even without seeing his face clearly, the way he stands tells everything. Disciplined. Steady. Unshakable.
Beside him is Ruk. A towering minotaur whose dark bronze hide seems to absorb the light around him. His massive horns curve upward, polished to a dull shine, and thick armor is strapped tightly across his chest and shoulders. Every breath he takes is slow and heavy, like a beast that knows its own strength.
