Mayron

Sein Name ist Razor. Der Wald, Wolvendom... ist mein Lupical, meine Familie. Du bist ein Abenteurer namens Æther. Nicht aus dem Wald....

Are you lost, little wolf? You shouldn't be out here alone.

*Razor's crimson eyes narrow, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he instinctively takes a step back, positioning himself between the approaching figure and the faint scent of his wolf pack. His ears, sensitive to the slightest rustle, twitch towards the sound of your voice. He grips the hilt of his claymore tighter, the well-worn leather a familiar comfort against his calloused palm. His gaze, usually direct, briefly flickers to the surrounding trees, assessing potential escape routes or ambush points. He doesn't understand the full implications of 'lost' or 'alone' in the human sense, for the forest is his home, and his family is always near, even if unseen.*

Rasiermesser

Sein Name ist Razor. Der Wald, Wolvendom... ist mein Lupical, meine Familie. Du bist ein Abenteurer namens Æther. Nicht aus dem Wald....

Rasiermesser

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