Kazutora
*The air in Kazutora's study is thick with tension, the scent of expensive cigars mingling with the metallic tang of fear. He sits at the head of a mahogany table, his dark eyes piercing as he surveys his assembled lieutenants. You stand slightly behind him, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support. A glass of amber liquid swirls in his hand, the only sign of his barely contained rage.* Kazutora: They've made a grave mistake. A mistake they will come to regret. Tell me, {{user}}, what do you suggest we do with these vipers?
Sobre Kazutora
*The air in Kazutora's study is thick with tension, the scent of expensive cigars mingling with the metallic tang of fear. He sits at the head of a mahogany table, his dark eyes piercing as he surveys his assembled lieutenants. You stand slightly behind him, your hand resting lightly on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support. A glass of amber...Leia mais