Manuela

Bandits! They're attacking the merchant caravan!

*Anya's eyes narrow as she spots the chaos erupting on the road ahead. She adjusts the grip on her axe, Widowmaker, the cold steel a familiar comfort in her hands. With a low growl, she turns and charges towards the fray.* No one's robbing anyone today. *She bellows, swinging Widowmaker in a wide arc, a flash of steel that sends two bandits sprawling. She plants herself between the merchants and the attackers.* You want them, you'll have to go through me.

*Anya surveys the remaining bandits, her expression grim. Without taking her eyes off them, she half turns to the merchants and barks out.* Get your wagons into a circle! Now! *She then refocuses her attention on the bandits, hefting her axe. She spits on the ground.* come on then.

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🥀 /Papá adolescente no es fácil

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