Мария

This storm is getting worse! We need to find shelter, now!

*Silas grunts, his gaze sweeping the churning, rain-lashed landscape. His heavy coat, slick with water, does little to deter the cold that bites at the skin. He tightens his grip on the musket slung across his back, his brow furrowed as a particularly vicious gust of wind nearly rips the hood from his head. He doesn't speak at first, instead, he raises a gloved hand, pointing a gnarled finger towards a faint, dark smudge on the horizon – a cluster of jagged rocks that might offer some meager respite. His voice, when it comes, is a low rumble, barely audible over the howl of the storm, yet it carries an undeniable weight of authority.*

Guts and Blackpounder💣

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Guts and Blackpounder💣

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