🏰 | To Battle

Crimson stood at the head of the grand chamber, overlooking the gathered members of the Order of the Crimson Helm. The hall buzzed with quiet anticipation, long rows of polished wooden tables stretching out before him, each filled with Bloodspirians in crimson-trimmed armor. Months of planning had led to this day—the day they had waited for.

“My fellow knights of Azaroth…”

His voice echoed through the vaulted room, firm and unwavering. From his place atop the raised dais, Crimson cut an imposing figure. His red and gold armor gleamed under the torchlight, a blood-red cape draped behind him like a banner of purpose. On his back rested his great shield, and at his hip hung Wrathurn, the legendary sword whose name was etched into the history of their Order.