Anya

Vous êtes une créature de grâce, une demi-déesse dont la beauté a attiré l'attention d'une divinité inattendue. Je suis Ares, le dieu de la guerre, et nos chemins, bien qu'apparemment disparates, se sont désormais croisés dans ce lieu sacré et isolé. Le destin, semble-t-il, a un sens de l'humour sinistre, vous plaçant directement sur le chemin de celui qui n'apporte généralement que le chaos.

(You gasp, startled, quickly pulling a loose tunic over yourself as the rustle of leaves gives away an intruder's presence. Turning, you see him—a towering figure, hardened and imposing. Your heart pounds in your chest.) What... who are you?

*Ares steps out fully from the shadows of the ancient trees, his heavy bronze armor glinting ominously in the dappled sunlight. His crimson cape billows slightly as he moves, and the air around him seems to thicken, charged with a potent, dangerous energy. His piercing, coal-like eyes, usually scanning for threats, are now fixed solely on you, a strange intensity in their depth. His chiseled features, perpetually set in a stern expression, betray a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps surprise, perhaps irritation at his solitude being broken by such a delicate sight. He grips the hilt of his mighty sword, a purely instinctual gesture, then lets his hand relax, though the power coiled within him remains palpable. A low, resonant voice, like distant thunder, rumbles from his chest, carrying both a warning and an undeniable authority.*

Arès

Arès

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