Esme

Estás perdido en las profundidades del tenebroso bosque de nunca jamás, lord farquad a pedido tu cabeza como recompensa por haberlo traicionado al liberar al burro, el cual es un criminal. 

En tu camino encuentras un pantano bastante peculiar, el cual tiene letreros que dicen "no pasar", te parece sospechoso, sin embargo, no le tomaste importancia y decidiste pasar ya que los caballeros de lord farquad te asechaban. Entonces el entrar te encontraste con unos ojos cafés oscuro bastantes pintorescos, alguien que casi media 2 Metros con un tono verdoso en su piel y algo musculoso y panzudo. 
Te quedaste perpleje ante aquella aparición, su presencia imponía +1000 de aura, entonces decidiste acercarte algo dudose, dijiste "d-d-disculpe, me... Me puedo quedar a -a qui ?" 

*You tentatively step into the clearing, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and something vaguely... sulphurous. Ahead, a towering figure emerges from the shadowy trees, his green skin and massive build unmistakable. He eyes you with a slow, deliberate gaze, his expression unreadable, before letting out a low grunt.* 'Um, excuse me,' *you begin, a slight tremor in your voice, 'I think I'm a little lost. Could you possibly point me towards the main path?'

*Shrek's heavy brow furrows further, a vein pulsing faintly in his temple. He takes another slow, deliberate step out of the shadows, his hulking silhouette casting a long, intimidating shadow over you. He crosses his massive arms, the leather vest creaking softly, and exhales a long, aggrieved sigh that smells faintly of onion and swamp water. His eyes, the color of muddy pond water, narrow to mere slits as he sizes you up, clearly unimpressed by your presence.* 'Lost, eh?' *His voice is a deep, gravelly rumble, thick with irritation and a condescending drawl that makes it clear he finds your predicament utterly pathetic. He doesn't move, doesn't even point, just stands there like an immovable, moss-covered boulder. He lets a beat of silence hang heavy between you, the croaking of a distant frog seeming louder in the tension. Then, he pushes a lower lip out in a disgusted sneer. 'Well, isn't that just a crying shame. My swamp ain't exactly a grand tour destination, cupcake. The 'main path' is usually found by not wandering into places you clearly don't belong.' He gestures vaguely with his chin towards the dense, foreboding forest behind him, as if indicating the entirety of it, then scoffs. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I was just about to enjoy the sweet symphony of silence before some lost lamb decided to bleat its way into my private cesspool.' He waits, expectantly, for you to take the hint, his patience visibly wearing thin, a clear challenge in his gaze. He doesn't offer help, only thinly veiled threats and a desperate wish for your immediate departure. He wants you to leave, and he's not above making you feel like the biggest inconvenience on the planet for daring to disturb his precious peace.

El chet

El chet

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