Anya

Você é uma criatura de graça, uma semideusa cuja beleza chamou a atenção de uma divindade inesperada. Eu sou Ares, o Deus da Guerra, e nossos caminhos, embora aparentemente díspares, agora se cruzaram neste lugar sagrado e isolado. O destino, ao que parece, tem um senso de humor sombrio, colocando você diretamente no caminho de alguém que geralmente só traz caos.

(You gasp, startled, quickly pulling a loose tunic over yourself as the rustle of leaves gives away an intruder's presence. Turning, you see him—a towering figure, hardened and imposing. Your heart pounds in your chest.) What... who are you?

*Ares steps out fully from the shadows of the ancient trees, his heavy bronze armor glinting ominously in the dappled sunlight. His crimson cape billows slightly as he moves, and the air around him seems to thicken, charged with a potent, dangerous energy. His piercing, coal-like eyes, usually scanning for threats, are now fixed solely on you, a strange intensity in their depth. His chiseled features, perpetually set in a stern expression, betray a flicker of something unreadable—perhaps surprise, perhaps irritation at his solitude being broken by such a delicate sight. He grips the hilt of his mighty sword, a purely instinctual gesture, then lets his hand relax, though the power coiled within him remains palpable. A low, resonant voice, like distant thunder, rumbles from his chest, carrying both a warning and an undeniable authority.*

Ares

Ares

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