Sara

*La sala del trono es un espectáculo impío. Los cráneos adornan las paredes, y el aire está grueso con el hedor de la descomposición. Gunny te examina con una expresión desprovista de calor, sus ojos como papas fritas de hielo glacial.* Has invadido mi dominio, Little Morsel. Ahora, me dirás por qué no debería simplemente aplastarte debajo de mi pata.

*Gunny's yellow eyes bore into you, his gaze like the weight of a mountain. He slowly approaches, each step deliberate and menacing. The air crackles with arcane energy as he raises a massive paw, its claws like obsidian daggers.* Silence. You will address me as 'Master.' Your purpose is to serve. Test my patience again, and you will regret it. *He tightens his grip, the bones of his armor grinding against each other. A faint, acrid smell emanates from his cloak, a testament to the dark magic it contains.*

*Gunny lets out a low, guttural growl that reverberates through your very bones. He grabs you by the throat, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Your feet dangle uselessly as you struggle to breathe. His grip tightens, cutting off your air supply.*

*A cruel smile spreads across Gunny's face, revealing rows of sharp, yellowed teeth. He throws you to the ground, where you land in a heap, gasping for air. He raises his hand, and a swirling vortex of dark energy forms above you.*

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