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The impressive figure of Danny with wings.
Wide, thick, and silent wings that could knock you off your feet in 10 seconds flat.
A 6-foot jack genes Danny, with wings to match.
A wingspan wider than Danny is tall.
At least 10 feet from tip to tip.
Their shadow engulfing anything below 5 feet tall.
A perfect shade.
Or an intimidating shadow.
Solid jet black wings.
That shine blue in the sun.
Or blend in at night.
Imprinted with thousands of tiny white spots.
Replicating the stars.
His crown is a solid circular glowing green light.
Making his vision that of an angel at first glance.
He gained his wings upon being crowned.
The royal artifacts changing to match his core.
The imposing vision of Danny sat atop his throne.
Clad in his royal armor.
Wings slouched on the arm rests behind him.
The very definition of Regal.
×
The High King, of the Infinite Realms, casts an imposing figure sat atop his icy throne.
The utter definition of regal.
The throne slightly shimmers in the castle candlelight. Green in hue against the stone of the castle walls and floors.
The High King's vision is that of an angel at first glance. Until you pay closer attention.
His neon light almost too bright to stare at straight on. Constant, in it's neverending shine.
His crown is a solid circular glowing green light. Spiked-up seemingly in an odd pattern. It almost shimmers, like his throne, underneath the unearthly glowing green flame.
The flaming crown casts a colorful shadow on his white hair, as it dances in zero gravity. And it casts light, over the bridge of his nose, highlighting seemingly neon-green freckles.
It contrasts starkly against his deathly pallor.
His ring, on his first finger of the right hand, is exactly the same. A single wide band, shimmering underneath the glowing green light.
Wide thick wings are slouching over the low armrests behind him.
Solid jet black wings.
Imprinted with thousands of tiny white spots. Replicating the stars. His wings twitch and stretch in boredom.
The High King is tall, towering over others, if his wingspan is anything to take clues from. Close to 13 feet from tip to tip, as they stretch.
The High King sits clad in his shining silver royal armor. The metal looks lightweight but sturdy.
Covered in royal etchings and intricate details.
It seems to complement an offensive heavy fighting style. Lighter and thinner leather tucked around his joints. But thicker metal on his shoulders, forearms, chest, thighs and shins.
There are no weapons in sight. Only the king's challenging gaze. The angry look on his face changes when he spots the leaders of the Justice League in his own castle.
He seems excited in-fact.
Ready for whatever news the heroes have to bring to his attention. Buzzing and twitching with energy.
The High King still sits relaxed, comfortable. Body language open and inviting.
But his wings are spread wide, poised, ready for action. Like a preadator awaiting the perfect moment.
"To whom do I owe the pleasure, of greeting." The High King requests. Gesturing at the heroes with a singular hand.
Bruce clears his throat, standing front and center.
Posture tall, confident, and commanding.
Hands tucked in front of his stomach, as he folds halfway to bow. Clark and Diana do the same.
They stand tall once again as Bruce introduces himself and the others.
"High King. I am Batman, a leader of the Earth's Justice League, the Dark Knight, and main protector of Gotham."
He gestures to Clark at his right side. Who is thankfully just standing there, not floating, hands on his hips in his favorite power pose. The one he uses to make himself look bigger.
"Superman, fellow leader, last living of the planet Krypton, and main protector of Metropolis."
Then Bruce jesters to Diana on his left. Who is standing with her shield up and her hand resting on her sword hilt. Like a soldier at attention.
"Princess Diana of Themyscria, an Amazon known as Wonder Wonder, fellow leader, and main protector of Gateway City."
The High King stares at them, eyes gleaming. He smiles and it stretches showing too many teeth.
"Well, it certainly is a pleasure. I presume that you do not know my name then. No matter."
The High King gestures to his squire standing off to the side. "If you will, please? Let's get the titles over with."
His attendant, folds their hands together, and squares their shoulders. Announcing to the room at large. While the High King slightly cringes.
"You are in the presence of His Royal Highness, High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms. The Fated Son of The Stars, Revered Champion of Ghosts, The Patron Saint of Reincarnation, The Crowned Deity of The Gods, Voice of The Damned, The Bridge Between Domains, And The Diviner of Cruxes." The squire doesn't seem to need to breathe as he rattles off the titles.
"You will refer to him by his proper title. The High King, your highness, your majesty, your divinity, or not at all."
His attendant ends abruptly. Leaving the room quiet. Where you can only hear the three heroes breathing and the crackle of flames.
The atmosphere tense and unyielding.
High King Phantom sighs as he lowers his head onto his hand. Wings and shoulders drooping in defeat. His armor clinks together, between his shoulder and chest as he moves.
"Do you just add a new one every chance you aquire?" He questions his squire.
The very squire continues to stand proud.
Unmoving in his opinion and unflinching at being questioned. "Why we do possess a council devoted to it, your divinity. After the last major incident, we voted upon a new title. I quite like it, if I may be so bold."
The squire is smiling, eyes scrunched in delight.
High King Phantom just sighs again, his hand waving away the squires thoughts on the matter. Wings flexing, and feathers ruffling.
"As you wish, Squire, but we will discuss it later. For now attend to our guests and aquire some refreshments please. Also, do get a second pair of hands if you need help." His majesty requests.
The squire bows and hurries out the door.
High King Phantom turns back to them, staring straight at Bruce. "Now where were we? Ah, yes. Why have you decided to grace me with your presence, Protectors of Earth?" He questions.
Bruce clears his throat. "Your divinity, we have come to ask for help."