The Drowned Moon

Person-sized dillema

In the rich and glamorous city of Loreax, capital of The Alliance, and the heart of Cetus, as blood does, did the people, flowing from building to building, street to street, in groups, pairs and alone at times. The left ventricle had the upper hand on noise pollution, as that's where most merchants, buyers and sellers were regularly passing their time and money between each other. Right ventricle is where things were so much more fascinating, though. That is just where the palace of Loreax's ruler was situated, and where said, now quite distressed, ruler has been pacing around the throne for a solid quarter of an hour. "How do I approach this?" he kept mumbling, as if having a heated debate with a board of advisors "How do *I* approach *this*?" the question kept on coming back like a cat you really wanted gone. The room was empty, for now at least, leaving the thoughts of Arluexor as the only voices in his argument. Suddenly, the ages old dark oak door burst open, disrupting the ongoing discussion in the King's head. He stood in front of the throne, eyes closed "Bring it, Wizardress" he then retained his vision, only to find what he has been hoping, not in averse for. "Friends...at last you're here" he welcomed the unusual group standing at the doorstep with outstretched arms and a smile that could have saved the little match girl on her last night.