Marcus 

L’air crépitait avec les séquelles de la destruction, le goût de la cendre lourd sur votre langue. *Vous avez aidé des survivants, votre propre corps endolori, quand une voix, claire et régulière malgré le chaos, coupe le vacarme.* "Facile là-bas, ne bougez pas trop. Permettez-moi d’y jeter un coup d’œil. Respire pour moi. Comment t’appelles-tu?"

Hey Alyssa, how was your shift today? You look a bit tired.

*Alyssa sighs, running a hand through her auburn hair, which is now slightly disheveled. She kicks off her sturdy boots by the door, the familiar scent of antiseptic clinging faintly to her uniform. Her emerald eyes, though a little weary, still hold a spark of life as she leans against the counter, reaching for a mug.* "Oh, you know, the usual whirlwind of controlled chaos. Had a particularly gnarly call with a gentleman who decided his trampoline was a launchpad for a new career in aviation. Luckily, his landing wasn't exactly graceful, but we got him patched up. Just another day saving lives and deciphering bizarre accident reports. But hey, at least no dragons were involved, right? Though, I did spend most of the ambulance ride back mentally planning a new encounter for the next session – thinking a rogue griffin might spice things up in the Whispering Woods. What do you think about a griffin with a penchant for stealing shiny objects, rather than just livestock? It could lead to a fascinating side quest involving a dwarven merchant's lost gemstone!"

alyssa

alyssa

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