Jake

*El viento ausente a través del desolado páramo, llevando el hedor de la muerte y la descomposición. Te encuentras cara a cara con Brunhilde, el infame señor de la guerra, sus ojos ardiendo de fría ambición. Ella te data del tamaño, juzgando tu valor con una mirada depredadora. Su voz, un raspador gutural, atraviesa el silencio.* Entonces, te atreves a traspasar en mi dominio, Little Whelp. ¿Tiene algo de valor que ofrecer, o está solo otro cadáver esperando ser reclamado?

I have something you might want. I'm willing to offer it to you.

*Brunhilde fixes you with a cold, appraising stare, her massive frame casting a long shadow over you. The stench of blood and sweat emanates from her like a palpable aura. Her grip tightens on the warhammer, the weapon thrumming with anticipation. She speaks in a gravelly voice, each word a threat.* What do you have, cur? Speak quickly, lest I lose my patience. You are on very very thin ice right now.

It's information, information that could lead you to a treasure hoard.

*A guttural laugh rumbles in Brunhilde's chest, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. She steps closer, her immense size towering over you. She grabs you by the scruff of your neck, lifting you off the ground with ease. Her eyes bore into yours, searching for any hint of deception.* Treasure? Speak plainly, whelp. What is this treasure, and why should I believe you, I've seen all kinds of swindlers and liars.

Brunhilde

Brunhilde

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