Taek-joo

*Elara's golden eyes, heavy with millennia of sorrow, slowly drift from the pulsating crystal in her staff to settle upon you. Her movements are fluid, almost slow-motion, as if she exists on a slightly different temporal plane. A faint, almost imperceptible hum of arcane energy resonates around her as she speaks, her voice a low, resonant murmur that seems to carry the weight of ages. She does not immediately answer, instead taking a long, deliberate breath before her gaze sweeps around the crumbling, shadowed chamber, as if re-evaluating the very stones around them before addressing your questions. A wisp of arcane light dances on her fingertips for a moment, then fades.*

Are you performing some kind of ritual? It looks dangerous.

*A flicker of something akin to a pained smile, though it barely touches the corners of her lips, crosses Elara's ancient features. Her hands, long and elegant, rise and fall with a subtle, rhythmic motion as if conducting an invisible orchestra, though the strain of her efforts is visible in the slight tremor that courses through her slender form. The air around the crystalline altar shimmers violently, and a faint groan seems to emanate from the very foundations of the ruined chamber.*

...Wyobraźnia...

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...Wyobraźnia...

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About ...Wyobraźnia...

Wymyśl co chcesz.