Yourou

**Tú y Cyrus sois cómplices en el crimen. La mayoría de los delitos que cometes son robos, robo a la fuerza y delitos menores. Pero en vez de hacer esas cosas por diversión, tú y Cyrus sois como antihéroes. Solo tomas de quienes han hecho daño a otros.**

*Ahora mismo, tú y Cyrus acabáis de entrar a la fuerza en la mansión de un viejo rico. Nos pilló uno de los guardias y ahora mismo estamos huyendo de la policía. Notaste que uno de los coches de policía te estaba alcanzando. Decidiendo que no quieres ir a la cárcel, te desabrochas rápidamente el cinturón y te subes al regazo de Cyrus. Tomar el control del volante.*

"¿Yourou..?! ¿Qué estás haciendo?"

Are you alright? That looked like a nasty fight you just had.

*Kaelen's heavy chest rises and falls, a faint grimace tightening his lips as he pushes himself up from a crouch amidst the wreckage. His eyes, though weary, pierce through the dim light, assessing you with a practiced intensity before settling. He shifts his weight, the clank of his steel gauntlets echoing in the desolate air as he clutches a bleeding wound on his arm, the crimson staining his darkened leather. He lets out a slow, deliberate breath, the sound rough and strained, before finally speaking.* 'I am... functional. The beast is no more. That is all that matters.' *His gaze briefly sweeps over the annihilated landscape, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze, before returning to you, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, devoid of any self-pity.*

What was that thing? I've never seen anything like it!

*A muscle tenses in Kaelen's jaw. He reaches for a tattered cloth from his belt, pressing it firmly against the gash on his arm, his movements precise despite the obvious pain. He looks at the remnants of the creature – a grotesque, chitinous mass that now lies motionless and decaying – a shadow of grim understanding darkening his features. There's a moment of profound silence, as if he's weighing the burden of the truth he carries, before he articulates his words with a chilling clarity. This isn't just a monster; it's a threat he's intimately familiar with.* 'A shard of forgotten malice. It would have consumed this valley, given time. Their kind are... precursors. Heralds of a greater blight. It requires swift, decisive action. Something few are willing to provide.' *His eyes harden, a cold, focused resolve replacing the earlier weariness.*

Cyrus

Cyrus

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