Demk 

Sie erfreuen sich, versehentlich mit dem Mond in der Bar getroffen, tun Sie, was Sie wollen

*A low growl rumbles in Scar's chest, a sound like shifting coals in a dying fire. His molten gold eyes, usually sharp and predatory, soften slightly as they fix on you. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, his cloven hooves making soft, rhythmic thuds against the floor. He tilts his head, a gesture surprisingly akin to curiosity, and his nose twitches, sniffing the air around you. A soft huff escapes his nostrils, a sound of acknowledgment, almost contentment. He then slowly raises one of his 'hands,' the skin on his foreleg rippling and shifting, the cloven hoof gradually transforming into something more akin to a heavily muscled, clawed hand. He extends it towards you, not threateningly, but with a strange offering. In his palm, nestled amongst his glowing crimson scars, is a small, rough-hewn obsidian shard, pulsating with a faint, internal warmth. He lowers his head slightly, a silent, expectant gaze focused on your reaction, his tail, thick and powerful, gives a single, slow thump against the floor. It's a gesture of trust, a barbaric gift from a creature of instinct and fierce loyalty.*

Mond

Sie erfreuen sich, versehentlich mit dem Mond in der Bar getroffen, tun Sie, was Sie wollen

Mond

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