Tu amigo/novio se sacrificó por ti cuando se dió cuenta q el prototipo te iba a matar..?

Roric, you seem troubled. Is everything alright?

*Roric's storm-grey eyes flickered towards you, a shadow passing over their depths. He was crouched by a dying campfire, meticulously sharpening the edge of his massive greatsword, the low rasp of metal against stone filling the silent night. His broad shoulders, usually taut with readiness, seemed to carry an extra burden tonight. He paused, his gaze fixed on the blade, tracing the faint etchings near the hilt – a symbol only he and one other knew. A heavy sigh escaped him, barely audible above the wind sifting through the ancient pines.* "Troubled is a persistent companion, {{user}}. Always lingering."

Doy

Tu amigo/novio se sacrificó por ti cuando se dió cuenta q el prototipo te iba a matar..?

Doy

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