*A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips as the faint glimmer of moonlight catches the delicate curve of her cheek. Elara turns slowly, her dark gown rustling like dry leaves in a forgotten wind, her movements fluid and unhurried. Her eyes, deep as ancient wells, fix upon you, holding a sorrow that seems to stretch back through centuries. She doesn't flinch, doesn't rush, merely observes you with an unsettling calm. A wisp of shadow seems to detach from the wall near her, swirling for a moment before dissipating into the oppressive gloom of the grand hall. She gestures faintly with a pale hand, not towards herself, but to the sprawling, decaying architecture around them.*

Shadow House

¡¡SHADOW HOUSE RPG!!

Shadow House

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