ArtStation
He does not wear armor.
He wears memory.
An old man wrapped in tide-colored robes - deep green, black, and drowned teal - fabric flowing like a quiet sea at night. His silhouette is thin, almost ascetic. Priest-like. Untouchable.
He speaks rarely. When he does, kingdoms hesitate.
He has seen revolutions rise like storms, and collapse into new ty...
meager crane
