Motarda(32mm,75mm + nsfw)
Motarda, a feared necromancer, walked through the desolate ruins of an ancient city, her dark robes billowing in the wind. The air around her was thick with the scent of decay, and the sky above was a constant shade of twilight, neither day nor night. In her hand, she clutched a bone staff, its tip glowing faintly with an eerie, green light. Motarda had spent years mastering the forbidden arts, communing with spirits and commanding the dead to do her bidding. Today, she sought the remains of a long-dead king, a soul of immense power, whose tomb lay hidden beneath the crumbling stones at her feet. The ground seemed to pulse with energy as she muttered an incantation, her voice echoing in the silence.
As the spell took hold, the earth trembled, and the ancient stones began to shift. Slowly, a skeletal hand emerged from the ground, followed by the rest of the undead king's body, still clad in fragments of regal armor. His hollow eyes glowed with the same green light as her staff, and a cold wind swept through the ruins. Motarda’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as she raised her hand, and the king knelt before her, bound to her will. She had succeeded in her dark quest, summoning a force that would make her unstoppable. As she turned to leave the ruins, the undead king followed silently at her side, and the shadows of the past seemed to whisper her name, reverberating through the empty city—Motarda, mistress of the dead.
