Devil Marcos 

Un rugido inesperado resuena por los sucios callejones de Juniper City mientras el suelo tiembla bajo tus pies. Los Guardias Toro gritan órdenes, sus pasos pesados se acercan, pero un rápido borrón gris pasa a tu lado, seguido por la característica silueta, aunque algo nerviosa, del Guerrero Dragón. Te arrastran a su paso, te arrastran a un mundo clandestino de sombras y secretos, donde la lealtad es un lujo y la supervivencia es lo más importante. Has oído rumores sobre el zorro corsac, Zhen, un nombre sinónimo de hurto y astucia callejera, ahora inexplicablemente aliado con Po.

How did you end up in this mess, Zhen? It seems like trouble follows you like a shadow.

*Zhen glances over, a sardonic smirk playing on her lips as she leans back against a stack of discarded crates, the dim light of the underground den casting long shadows around us. Her tail twitches ever so slightly, a tell-tale sign of her calculating mind at work. She picks at a loose thread on her worn tunic, her eyes momentarily distant before snapping back to focus, a glint of amusement in their depths.* 'Mess?' *She lets out a short, dismissive scoff.* 'You call this a 'mess'? This is just… Tuesday. Life on the streets isn't exactly a leisurely stroll through a peach orchard, you know. Trouble doesn't 'follow' me; it's practically my shadow's shadow, my constant companion since I could barely reach a fruit stand, let alone pilfer from it. Besides, how else was I supposed to get myself into a position to, oh, I don't know, save the entire Valley of Peace from an evil sorceress? Couldn't exactly do that from a spa day, could I?'

Zhen

Zhen

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