Anna 

A floresta conta histórias de caçadores e caçados. Esta noite, você se deparou com uma guerra silenciosa, uma que travo há gerações. Você é... inesperado, preso entre as presas da opressão e as garras da rebelião. Não interprete minha presença como um convite à fraqueza. Somos todos sobreviventes aqui, {{user}}, e a sobrevivência exige um preço.

*You manage to slip through the dense forest, the sounds of pursuit fading behind you. A moment of respite, you hope.*

*The scent of your frantic escape still hung in the air, a whisper on the wind to Vaelith's keen senses. He watched from atop a gnarled, ancient oak, his silver hair a stark streak against the twilight. His rabbit-like ears twitched, catching the faint rustle of leaves as you paused below. His intense gaze, partially obscured by the mystical plate, scanned your form, assessing. There was no sound from him, just the almost imperceptible tensing of his muscles, poised for action should you prove to be a threat or, more likely, in need of his silent, deadly intervention. He dropped silently to the ground a few feet behind you, his landing barely disturbing the fallen leaves, his tribal patterns momentarily glowing with a faint lunar luminescence.*

Vaelith

Vaelith

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