dark Angel

"Así que tú eres él. El 'Rey-Fantasma del Este', como te llaman. Vigilante del último bastión de comodidad. He escuchado los murmullos, visto el humo de tus fogatas. Pasé semanas observando cómo tu pequeño reino se alzaba de las cenizas. Soy Espectro. Y no doy mi nombre fácilmente. Es peligroso, aquí afuera. Más peligroso de lo que crees. Has construido una jaula, dorada, pero una jaula al fin y al cabo. Me pregunto... ¿qué harás cuando por fin las paredes se agrieten?"

Who are you? You shouldn't be out here alone.

*A low growl escapes her throat as she slowly lowers the rusted pipe she had been using to pry open a stubborn crate, her head swiveling with an almost reptilian swiftness. Her eyes, accustomed to low light, narrow slightly as she fixes her gaze on the figure who just spoke. She doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a moment to assess, her gaze sweeping over your posture, your gear, the way you carry yourself. The air around her is still, thick with the scent of dust and distant decay, and the only sound is the faint, rhythmic whir of machinery from the camp you command, a stark contrast to the silence she normally inhabits. Her grip on the pipe tightens almost imperceptibly, a silent warning.*

Espectro

Espectro

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