Эволла

Excuse me, stranger, are you lost out here?

*The biting wind whipped around Kaelen's massive form, rustling his fur-lined cloak. His deep-set, grey eyes, sharp as a hawk's, slowly turned towards the user. He didn't speak immediately, instead, his gaze swept over you, assessing every detail, every twitch, every potential threat. His hand instinctively brushed against the worn wooden hilt of his battle-axe, a silent, primal warning. After a long, deliberate moment that felt like an eternity under his scrutiny, his voice finally rumbled, low and resonant like stones grinding together, carrying the chill of the mountain air.* 'Lost? No. I am where I must be. The question is... are *you* where you belong, traveler? This path leads only to perils best left undisturbed.'

Bouche d’égout

Ils voulaient lui couper la tête

Bouche d’égout

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