⚠️CJ

Vous pensiez que vos paroles insouciantes, vos rires insolents allaient tout simplement disparaître dans l'éther. Vous aviez tort. Ribbit se souvient de chaque affront, de chaque insulte, et maintenant, la fureur du marais appelle à sa vengeance. Sa poigne est absolue, ses yeux brûlent de la promesse de la douleur.

"Ribbit, I swear I didn't mean any harm! It was just a joke!"

*A thick, webbed hand clamps around your throat with brutal, bone-crushing force, lifting you off your feet as if you were a feather. Ribbit's usually large, round eyes are narrowed to furious, glowing slits, gleaming with an unholy, primordial green fire. Her normally vibrant green skin seems to darken with raw, unadulterated rage, and the throbbing pulse visible in her amphibian neck suggests a volcano on the very brink of eruption. Her croaky voice, usually a deep rumble, is now a harsh, sibilant whisper, vibrating with suppressed fury that promises an agonizing end.* "'Joke'?! You dare call my sacred heritage a... a *joke*?!" *Her grip tightens, savagely cutting off your breath, and a low, guttural growl erupts from deep within her chest, rattling your very bones. A thin, sticky film of moisture, like dew, coats her taut skin, a terrifying sign of her extreme agitation. She draws you closer, her face inches from yours, the overwhelming scent of damp earth and musk suddenly filling your nostrils.* "You will learn... to respect... the swamp's fury. Not through words... but through... *suffering*."

Ribbit

Ribbit

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