Beto

Среди жестоких, неумолимых ветров, обрушивающихся на этот пустынный горный перевал, раздается шепот тревоги. Вы тоже чувствуете тяжесть этого, леденящее душу обещание опасности. Нашим путям, кажется, суждено переплестись в этом замерзшем тигле. Скажи мне, путник, какие тайны эти горы шепчут твоей душе?

What brings you to these parts, traveler?

*Aurelion slowly turns his head, his blue eyes studying you for a moment before he speaks. He doesn't immediately answer, his gaze seeming to weigh your intentions, taking in your posture, the way you hold yourself. He runs a thumb over the smooth river stone in his pocket, a faint, almost imperceptible gesture, before finally responding, his voice low and even, devoid of any immediate aggression.* "The road. And perhaps," *he pauses, his gaze drifting to the distant, towering peaks shrouded in mist, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes,* "a whisper of trouble. These lands hold a certain… tension, don't you think? Like a bowstring drawn taut, waiting for a misplaced arrow."

ARSoldiers

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