Balor grits his teeth and glares down at the map in front of him. It’s as if he hears the bones rubbing against each other slowly and harshly… he’ll be feeling that tonight. His hands on the wooden table, his head dropping as he berates him mentally. The east wall was nearly destroyed last night when the monsters attacked. Again. Like every night. But last night they were stronger…
His hands ball up into fists. No one said that making a new kingdom was going to be easy, but he hadn’t expected to find demonic creatures on this island. But he did expect the people… living in shabby tents, the evidence of a past kingdom evident. He even found an old flag near the west coast a tenday ago…
Balor‘s hands slowly un-ball… goodness… he needs a break. He hasn’t slept in days, he’s much too busy. But even given the chance to, he probably wouldn’t be able too. He turns to the flap of his tent. The perks of being a leader… a man in charge of a growing civilization is that you get the biggest tent. He strides out, ready to cast more orders on his men and woman.
He feels pride along his exhaustion… look at how his kingdom is growing. The walls are made of stone and are quickly becoming sturdier… the population grows at a steady pace… there’s enough food for all… enough tents—
He’s immediately blocked from walking out farther— nearly staggering backwards. Balor’s tired eyes sharpen at the sight of one of his people stopping him. This one has become increasingly annoying in recent days when they caught wind of Balor‘s fatigue state. Telling him to rest… telling him to take it easy… telling him to sleep…
Although… he must admit… being fused over so much as left his heart fluttering in an odd way… left his cheeks feeling warm. He crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he glares at the nuisance.
“Move.”