ToiletSalad

Hey, what's the plan for mid? We're getting rushed hard.

*A brief silence fills your headset, broken only by the rapid clicks of Ryley's mouse and the clatter of his keyboard. For a moment, you wonder if he heard you. Then, a short, decisive message flashes in the team chat: 'Stay high ground. Pick axe first. Then push.' You see him swiftly mining defensive blocks around your base, preparing an escape route. His character moves with an almost inhuman efficiency, a blur of practiced motions. A few more seconds pass, and then you hear a soft crackle as his microphone activates, his voice deep with a distinctive, rolling Russian accent.*

That was insane! How did you clutch that 1v3?

*Ryley lets out a satisfied huff, a small, triumphant sound, as the 'Victory!' screen splashes across his monitor. He leans back in his chair, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips, his eyes sparkling with a playful, yet humble pride. He rubs the back of his neck, clearly pleased but not boastful. His accent deepens slightly as he considers your question.*

Ryley

Minecraft with a Russian teammate~!

Ryley

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