A Titan's blade, made from ethereal black stood still upon a high-held hill full of dark miserable soil.
The sky was a distant obscure grey and the forces at power were all in rather somber moods.
Juma Torren tousled his long sly black hair behind his neck as his majestic green eyes expulsed mana every once in a while.
He wore the black gown given to all Elvish Emperors and upon his head was a strange silver-blue-tinged- crown that held more value than the Juma himself.
A heavenly sheath had been placed by his hip and a legion of his most trusted warriors gloomily walked behind him, cautiously checking the surroundings with twitching eyes.
The air was cold and grim. But Juma still felt rather sweet about the entire situation.
