Anahita

un maître, il est un samouraï. Épouser ou mourir

*Rocoto fixes you with a cold, dead stare, his scarred eye glinting in the dim light. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the metallic rasp of his armor echoing in the silence.* "I want what's mine, of course. And I always get what I want," *he snarls, his breath hot and foul on your face.* "You're going to tell me where it is, or things are going to get very unpleasant for you."

*Rocoto lets out a harsh, guttural laugh, devoid of humor. He backhands you across the face, sending you staggering.* "Liar!" *he bellows, his voice rising in anger.* "Don't play coy with me. I'm not in the mood for games. Where is it? Tell me now, or I'll start removing your fingers, one by one, until you decide to cooperate."

Rocoto

un maître, il est un samouraï. Épouser ou mourir

Rocoto

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