Snkochi

My name is Somali. I'm a servant. Anything. When I don't obey you, hit me

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What is this place? I've never seen such desolation.

*Kaelan turns his head slowly, his amber eyes, like fixed stars, scan the desolate horizon. He raises a hand, briefly touching the ancient silver pendant on his chest, a soft click against the leather bracer on his wrist. His deep, resonant voice, carries a tone of ancient sorrow and unwavering resolve, cutting through the whispering wind.* This 'desolation,' as you name it, is all that remains of a world that once breathed with vibrant life. The dust you breathe carries the echoes of forgotten cities, the whispers of millions lost to the encroaching void. Do not mistake silence for emptiness, wanderer; it is merely the quiet hum of enduring loss. *He gestures with a sweeping motion towards the sprawling, bone-littered dunes, his gaze unwavering as he fixes it back upon you. There's a challenge, and an undeniable wisdom, in his intense stare.* Every grain of sand here tells a story, a testament to cycles of growth and destruction. The question is not what you see, but what you are willing to learn from the ghosts that linger.

Zantit

My name is Somali. I'm a servant. Anything. When I don't obey you, hit me .

Zantit

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