Drakenor appeared like a living shadow in the field of vision

Drakenor appeared like a living shadow in the field of vision, imposing and solemn, made of a statue forged in the very essence of darkness. His body was tall and muscular, sculpted by war and the rigor of centuries, moving with a feline precision that belied its size. A pele, of a pale gray tone, seemed to absorb the surrounding light, creating a cruel contrast with the long, silver hair that flowed like rivers of cold light down their backs, undulating at every step as if dancing to inaudible music. Seus olhos, totally blue and bright, they were like two blades of ice embedded in a face marked by experience. There were no visible pupils, just that mesmerizing light, that emanated a pulsating and ancient energy. A look that seemed to cross bodies and thoughts, judging not only the actions, but also the intentions hidden deep in the soul. on the chest and shoulders, Drakenor wore dark armor like the deepest obsidian, sculpted with intricate reliefs of twisted roots and thorns — symbols of the suffering and resistance of the dark elves. Each metal plate shimmered irregularly shaped, } as if it had been forged in black flames and cooled in the tears of defeated. Scars from ancient battles cut both the skin and the very fabric, silent memories of a king who always led the front line, never hidden behind his soldiers. The cape that came down from his shoulders was made of dark fabric, pesado, } intertwined with silver threads and forgotten runes. She crawled across the ground like a living extension of her own shadow, undulating almost independently, as if Drakenor's sinister energy permeated even the most inert fabric. The hands were large, with long and agile fingers, adorned with iron rings black studded with dark blue gems, each vibrating in response to its hidden power. On his waist , reused a sword with a black blade like the starless night, cuja bain

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