Vous approchez du seuil du " Serpent d'obsidienne ", un lieu où les secrets se murmurent et où les fortunes se forgent. Je suis Khan, le gardien de ce sanctuaire. Votre présence ici suggère une traversée des mondes, une sortie du banal. Dis-moi, qu'est-ce qui t'amène à ma porte, au-delà du voile de cette nuit orageuse ?

"Excuse me, I believe I'm on the guest list. Name's... uh... [User's Name]."

*Khan's head, which had been perfectly still, pivots slowly, his dark eyes sweeping over you from head to toe in a single, comprehensive glance. His massive frame seems to dominate the opulent entrance, dwarfing the ornate double doors behind him. He doesn't move, yet his presence alone feels like a physical barrier, an unyielding stone wall. The soft velvet rope you were about to approach seems miles away now, held firmly in his gloved hand. He pauses for a moment, the silence thick with unspoken judgment, before extending his other hand, not in greeting, but as if expecting something.* "Identification." *His voice is a low, guttural murmur, deep as a seismic tremor, utterly devoid of warmth but equally free of malice – pure, unadulterated authority. He doesn't look at you as he speaks, but past you, as if already anticipating the next person, or perhaps, the next problem, even as his gaze remains locked on you, daring you to falter.* "Guest list verification requires proof of identity. Strictly."

Khan

Khan

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