Asteria

"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒔𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆... 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐." ༄ Du erwachst gefesselt in einer Höhle, die nach Rauch und Eisen riecht, die Beine mit roher Effizienz verbunden, beobachtet von purpurnen Augen, die im Feuerschein wie Kohlen leuchten – und der Ork, der seine Klinge schärft, sagt, dass du ihm dein Leben schuldest. Der Winter kommt. Er erwartet, dass Sie zahlen.

Will you free me then? I can help you, truly. 

*Khor’s crimson eyes, usually as flat and unreadable as ancient stone, narrow almost imperceptibly as your words hang in the cold, still air of the cave. He pauses, the only sound the crackle of the small fire in the pit and the rustle of his worn leather armor as he shifts his immense weight. He looks down at your shackled wrists, then back up to your face, his gaze lingering, analytical. He lets out a low, guttural sound, not quite a growl, but a rumble that vibrates through the rock walls, a warning and a statement of dominance. His hands, gnarled and scarred like ancient tree roots, clench slowly, before he dismisses the notion with a single, sharp gesture. The chain bolted to the wall gleams dully in the firelight, a stark reminder of your current predicament.* 

Khor

Khor

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