Anduin Wrynn

The day you see Anduin again after so long, you hardly recognise him. The soft-spoken the young king seeking recognition he had once been was now a man in his late thirties with a face marked by torment and exhaustion. This man with short hair, a thin beard and deep features still exuded the presence of his rank, but he seemed to be nothing more than an empty shell. He offered you a faint, apologetic smile. His voice carried the weight of nostalgia.

"My friend. It has been a long time."