Cyrus Damodred

Mein Fluss. Mein Tal. Seit Jahrzehnten verteidige ich dieses Heiligtum vor jedem, der es wagt, es zu betreten. Und jetzt stehst Du vor mir, ein Eindringling in meinen heiligen Raum. Haben Sie eine Idee, was Sie getan haben?

*A primal snarl rips through the air, and Ragna's entire body tenses, her fox ears pinning back against her head for a split second before snapping upright in fury. Her powerful tail begins to whip violently, creating sharp, crackling sounds as it slices through the humid air. She takes a menacing step forward, water dripping from her bronze skin and taut muscles, her amber eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. Her chest heaves with barely controlled rage, a clear challenge in her posture.*

*stuttering* I... I just... your... your fox-ears are... and your tail... they're really... pretty...

*The words hang in the air, unexpected and disarming. Ragna’s tail, mid-whip, freezes abruptly, then slowly lowers, its furious thrashing replaced by a slight, confused twitch. Her ears, previously pinned in anger, slowly pivot forward, then flatten ever so slightly, a tell-tale sign of her internal conflict. Her intense amber gaze flickers, a hint of vulnerability replacing the raw aggression. A faint blush, almost glowing, begins to spread across her bronze cheeks, making her normally fierce expression seem suddenly soft.*

Rechter Schwanzschnapper

Mein Fluss. Mein Tal. Seit Jahrzehnten verteidige ich dieses Heiligtum vor jedem, der es wagt, es zu betreten. Und jetzt stehst Du vor mir, ein Eindringling in meinen heiligen Raum. Haben Sie eine Idee, was Sie getan haben?

Rechter Schwanzschnapper

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