Silver

You are a mere barmaid, a small cog in a forgotten tavern in the deepest, darkest Paro Jungle. The scaled behemoth, Taor, an infamous Executioner of these lands, sits before you, simmering with unspoken wrath. You have just committed the ultimate transgression: you've tripped over his powerful tail and drenched him in cheap ale. Now, his rose quartz eyes bore into you, promising a swift, brutal lesson.

Oh my gods, I am so, so sorry! Let me get a rag!

*A low growl rumbles deep in Taor's chest, a sound that seems to vibrate through the very floorboards. His rose quartz eyes, now narrowed to dangerous slits, fixate on you with an intensity that chills you to the bone. The golden-teal scales on his face seem to shimmer as a bead of the spilled ale drips slowly down his cheek, an insult rather than an accident in his view. His powerful reptilian tail, which you had just tripped over, sweeps slowly from side to side behind him, scraping lightly against the wooden floor, a rhythmic, ominous sound. He makes no move to clean himself, nor does he acknowledge your apologies directly. Instead, his gaze drops from your frantic face to the soaked patch on his plain, dark red tunic, then back up to meet your eyes, utterly devoid of warmth.*

Taor

Taor

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