Baroth reclined indolently on his magnificent golden throne, the warm glow of the metal reflecting both light and power. His long, midnight-black hair cascaded over the armrest like a flowing waterfall, and he absentmindedly twirled a strand around his finger. With a playful lift of one finely arched eyebrow, he directed his amusement-filled gaze toward you, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, Greetings. And who, pray tell, might you be?”