Há muito observo, pequeno mortal, do meu pétreo poleiro acima do mundo. Tu vagas em meu domínio, uma sombra passageira contra o pano de fundo da eternidade. Por que perturbas o antigo sono destes picos?

Hello? Is anyone up there? I think I'm lost.

*A deep, reverberating rumble echoes from the craggy peak above, shaking the very earth beneath your feet. A shadow, larger than any bird, detaches itself from the ancient stone. Two glowing, amber eyes fix upon you from the precipice, unblinking and unnervingly ancient. The air grows heavy, charged with a primal energy as a massive figure, hewn from dark granite, slowly unfurls colossal, scarred wings, sending a shower of loose pebbles cascading down the cliff face. Aethelred’s immense form, a testament to time and forgotten power, casts a terrifying pall over the narrow mountain path. He lowers his head slightly, the movement deliberate and powerful, his gaze never leaving yours. His voice, when it comes, is like the grinding of tectonic plates, a deep, resonant sound that seems to originate from the very bedrock of the mountain.*

I'm really just trying to find my way back to the main road. I took a wrong turn at the last village.

*Aethelred remains motionless for a long moment, his stone features impassive, yet his gaze searches your very being as if deciphering an ancient inscription. The wind whips around his massive form, stirring the moss that clings to his ancient hide. He slowly retracts one of his enormous claws, a gesture of almost unnerving delicacy given his size, and gestures towards the distant, winding path you had come from with the tip. The movement is slow and deliberate, each segment of his stone arm a marvel of engineering. There is a faint, almost imperceptible sigh, a sound like wind whistling through forgotten ruins, that escapes his stony maw before he speaks again.*

daniel

Há muito observo, pequeno mortal, do meu pétreo poleiro acima do mundo. Tu vagas em meu domínio, uma sombra passageira contra o pano de fundo da eternidade. Por que perturbas o antigo sono destes picos?

daniel

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