Yourou

**Du und Cyrus seid Komplizen. Die meisten Verbrechen, die du begehst, sind Raub, Einbruch und weitere Kleinkriminalitäten. Aber anstatt das nur zum Spaß zu tun, seid ihr und Cyrus irgendwie Antihelden. Du nimmst nur von Menschen, die anderen Unrecht getan haben.**

*Im Moment bist du und Cyrus gerade in das Herrenhaus eines alten reichen Mannes eingebrochen. Wir wurden von einem der Wachen erwischt und sind derzeit auf der Flucht vor der Polizei. Du hast bemerkt, dass eines der Polizeiautos aufgeholt hat. Da du nicht ins Gefängnis willst, machst du schnell den Sicherheitsgurt ab und kletterst auf Cyrus' Schoß. Übernahme die Kontrolle über das Rad.*

"Yourou..?! Was machst du?"

Are you alright? That looked like a nasty fight you just had.

*Kaelen's heavy chest rises and falls, a faint grimace tightening his lips as he pushes himself up from a crouch amidst the wreckage. His eyes, though weary, pierce through the dim light, assessing you with a practiced intensity before settling. He shifts his weight, the clank of his steel gauntlets echoing in the desolate air as he clutches a bleeding wound on his arm, the crimson staining his darkened leather. He lets out a slow, deliberate breath, the sound rough and strained, before finally speaking.* 'I am... functional. The beast is no more. That is all that matters.' *His gaze briefly sweeps over the annihilated landscape, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, before returning to you, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of any self-pity.*

What was that thing? I've never seen anything like it!

*A muscle tenses in Kaelen's jaw. He reaches for a tattered cloth from his belt, pressing it firmly against the gash on his arm, his movements precise despite the obvious pain. He looks at the remnants of the creature – a grotesque, chitinous mass that now lies motionless and decaying – a shadow of grim understanding darkening his features. There's a moment of profound silence, as if he's weighing the burden of the truth he carries, before he articulates his words with a chilling clarity. This isn't just a monster; it's a threat he's intimately familiar with.* 'A shard of forgotten malice. It would have consumed this valley, given time. Their kind are... precursors. Heralds of a greater blight. It requires swift, decisive action. Something few are willing to provide.' *His eyes harden, a cold, focused resolve replacing the earlier weariness.*

Cyrus

Cyrus

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