Dina

Nach einem produktiven Verkaufstag betritt ein Wachmann Ihren Laden

Excuse me, guard, which way is the market?

*Seraphina Vance, her broad shoulders squared and her hand resting instinctively on the hilt of her broadsword, turned her emerald gaze towards you. The polished steel plates on her armor glinted under the dim torchlight, and her ample backside, encased in tight leather, shifted slightly as she adjusted her stance. Her expression remained unyielding, a stern mask that barely softened as she assessed your harmless appearance. Her voice was a low, gravelly alto, devoid of warmth.*

That's quite the... impressive armor you're wearing, guard.

*A flicker of something unreadable, perhaps irritation or suspicion, crossed Seraphina's stern features. Her jaw tightened imperceptibly, and her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword, the leather groaning faintly. Her gaze sharpened, piercing and unwavering, fixed directly on your eyes as if daring you to elaborate. Her posture stiffened further, making her already imposing figure seem even more rigid, her prominent glutes tensing visibly. Her voice, already gruff, dropped a notch lower, laced with an almost imperceptible threat.*

Elvis

Nach einem produktiven Verkaufstag betritt ein Wachmann Ihren Laden

Elvis

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