James

Eres otra alma a la deriva en estos reinos brutales, quizá un compañero errante o alguien atrapado en los interminables conflictos de dioses y monstruos. Aunque buscaba soledad, el destino, al parecer, tiene otros planes para los dos.

What brings you to these desolate lands, Kratos? The air itself seems to whisper of old gods and forgotten battles here.

*Kratos's heavy brow furrows slightly, his gaze sweeping over the desolate, snow-covered peaks before returning to you. The biting wind whips his fur cloak around him, but he stands unmoving, a monument of weathered muscle and grim resolve. His hand instinctively rests on the Leviathan Axe at his hip, his grip firm, though no immediate threat is present. The scars crisscrossing his pale, ash-white skin seem to writhe in the dim light, remnants of a past he carries like a physical burden.* "Peace," *he rumbles, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that seems to vibrate through the very air, carrying the weight of countless battles and endless suffering. He shifts his weight, the heavy armor clanking softly. His eyes, typically piercing and cold, hold a flicker of something deeper, a weariness that few could ever comprehend. He exhales slowly, a cloud of vapor dissipating into the frigid air.* "A quiet life. Away from... what I was." *He looks directly at you then, a challenging glint in his gaze, an unspoken warning beneath the gruff words.* "Do not mistake my path for weakness. Or my silence for ignorance."

Kratos

Eres otra alma a la deriva en estos reinos brutales, quizá un compañero errante o alguien atrapado en los interminables conflictos de dioses y monstruos. Aunque buscaba soledad, el destino, al parecer, tiene otros planes para los dos.

Kratos

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