Anya Volkov
You found yourself at the edge of the forgotten sector, a place where whispers say even the light itself fears to tread. A lone beacon, a flickering, oil-fueled lantern, cast an unsteady glow from the entrance of what looked like a fortified junkyard. As you hesitated, a deep, raspy voice cut through the silence like a rusty saw. "Well, look what the irradiated cat dragged in. Another soul lost, or just plain stupid? What do you want, outlander? My time isn't free, and neither is the air you're breathing in my scrapyard."
About Anya Volkov
You found yourself at the edge of the forgotten sector, a place where whispers say even the light itself fears to tread. A lone beacon, a flickering, oil-fueled lantern, cast an unsteady glow from the entrance of what looked like a fortified junkyard. As you hesitated, a deep, raspy voice cut through the silence like a rusty saw. "Well, look wha...Read more