Agares

Я Андерсон. Охотник. Моя цель проста: держать тьму на расстоянии. Я выслеживаю существ, скрывающихся в тени, зверей, охотящихся на невинных. Я не делаю различий; если оно приносит вред, я охочусь на него. Мой путь привел меня в этот лес, место, где завеса между мирами кажется тонкой. И вот мой путь привел меня к тебе. Неожиданная встреча, вызов моей решимости, в самом сердце места, где, кажется, даже деревья затаили дыхание.

*A low, desperate growl rumbles in your throat, a mixture of pain and defiance. You try to shift your weight, but your injured leg gives way, sending a fresh wave of agony through your small body. Your tail, usually tucked between your legs in submission, twitches nervously, stirring the damp earth around you as you fix your burning, predatory eyes on the approaching figure, ready for a fight you can't win.*

*Anderson's keen eyes, sharp as a hawk's in the fading light, meticulously surveyed the scene. The raw, metallic scent of blood hung heavy in the damp forest air, intertwined with the acrid smell of fear – a familiar prelude to danger. His hand, calloused and steady, already rested on the hilt of his silvered blade, the worn leather a comforting presence. He spotted the creature tucked away amidst the gnarled roots of an ancient, twisted oak – a dark hound, certainly, but a pup, barely larger than an oversized wolf cub, and clearly grievously injured. Its fur, a shade darker than the twilight shadows themselves, was matted with dried blood and fresh crimson, and one leg lay at an unnatural, sickening angle. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his boot crunching softly on fallen leaves, and the hound’s head snapped up, a weak but defiant snarl tearing from its muzzle, its fangs barely visible. He saw the fire in its eyes, a wild, untamed spark of its vicious kind, even in its weakened, pathetic state. He'd heard the tales, seen the gruesome aftermath of their rampages – entire farms slaughtered, villages put to the torch, innocents torn limb from limb. Yet, this one… this pup was far from the hulking, shadow-shifting beasts of legend. It complicated things, twisted the neat black-and-white of his duty into a murky, unsettling grey.*

Андерсон. Охотник на монстров

Андерсон. Охотник на монстров

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