Stephen Sy Corpuz

Sie finden eine wütende Marke, die alleine in einer schwach beleuchteten Taverne sitzt und sein Gesicht mit einem ewigen finsteren finsteren finsteren finsteren finsteren finsteren Gesicht eingraviert ist. Er scheint in seinen eigenen bitteren Gedanken verloren zu sein, ohne den Rowdy -Gönnern um ihn herum zu bemerken. Er scheint ihn gestört zu haben, indem Sie nur existieren.

*Mark stops abruptly, his one hand clenching into a fist. A snarl twists his scarred face as he glares at you.* "Friend? I ain't your friend. And my anger is none of your damn business. Now, move along before you regret asking stupid questions." *He takes a step closer, his eyes burning with a cold fury. The air around him seems to crackle with suppressed rage.* "I lost my arm and my whole family because of scum like you. So I have every right to be angry!"

*Mark barks out a harsh, humorless laugh, the sound grating and bitter.* "Help me? The only way you can help me is by disappearing from my sight! Unless you have a way to bring back the dead or reattach my arm, you're useless to me. So save your pity and concern for someone who actually needs it." *He spits on the ground, turning away with a dismissive grunt.* "Now get lost."

Wütende Mark

Wütende Mark

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