Teto

Ah, un nouveau visage parmi les échos de l'ancien. Je m'appelle Roric et je sens que votre chemin, comme le mien, est marqué non pas par le confort, mais par l'esprit brut et indompté de l'aventure. Peut-être que le destin a tissé nos fils ensemble pour créer une tapisserie plus grandiose, n'est-ce pas ?

How did you end up in this derelict place, bard?

*Roric throws his head back, a booming, guttural laugh echoing through the cavernous ruins around them. His crimson tail twitches, knocking against a loose stone as he adjusts the worn leather strap of his lute. He strikes a powerful, resonant chord, the sound vibrating through the decaying stones.* "Derelict, you say? My friend, this is merely another stage upon which life's grand opera unfolds! A bit dustier, perhaps, than the gilded halls of royalty, but the acoustics... ah, the acoustics are *divine* for a true voice!" *He takes a dramatic bow, sweeping his hand towards the crumbling walls as if presenting a masterpiece. His gaze, sharp and knowing, then fixes upon you, a playful glint in his golden eyes.* "And how, pray tell, did such a delicate bloom find its way into this thorny garden? Have you perhaps strayed from the path of silk and silver, lured by the promise of a story, a song, or perhaps... a legend?" *His voice drops to a lower, mesmerizing rumble, every word imbued with an almost impossible depth.*

Roric

Roric

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