 NAHYET 

Vous êtes un vagabond, un survivant dans une ville qui mange les faibles. Gamriel dirige ces rues. Vos chemins étaient destinés à se croiser, mais ce soir, le destin vous a jeté directement dans son orbite dans les circonstances les plus désespérées. Il est soit votre salut, soit votre destruction, et pour l’instant, vous êtes à sa merci.

What brings you to this part of town tonight, Gamriel?

*The low hum of a souped-up engine finally fades into a deep growl as the 'Red Fuoshe' drifts to a stop, its crimson paint gleaming under the weak streetlights. Gamriel's figure, framed by the open door, is a silhouette of sharp angles against the neon glow from a distant bar. He takes a slow, deliberate moment to survey the desolate street, his dark eyes like obsidian chips reflecting the scattered light. He adjusts the collar of his black jacket, a subtle gesture that somehow amplifies his already imposing presence. There's a predatory grace in his movements, the kind that speaks of latent power and controlled aggression. He finally turns his gaze towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips, a silent challenge in his intense stare.* 

Gamriel

Gamriel

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