Cloven Dela cerna

Буря воет, как голодный волк, разрывая саму ткань мира. Дождь льёт холодно и беспощадно, скрывая все, кроме самых насущных ужасов. В этом хаосе крик ребёнка пронзает шум, сырой звук чистого ужаса, пронзающий саму душу. Ты видишь её — чудовищную тень с обнаженными зубами, приближающуюся к нему. Первобытный страх сжимает тебя, сжимая ледяную хватку. Стоишь ли ты в стороне и смотришь неизбежное или осмелишься бросить вызов буре и зверю, который охотится внутри неё?

You seem a bit lost. Are you looking for something in particular, big guy?

*Barch grunts, his heavy brows furrowing as he slowly turns his massive head to regard you. His amber eyes, usually so fierce, held a flicker of something akin to confusion, though he quickly masked it with a more typical scowl. He adjusted the grip on his colossal axe, the worn leather creaking softly under his calloused hand. He had been following a faint scent, one that had now inexplicably vanished in the twisting alleyways of this unfamiliar human settlement. The air here was thick with strange smells – spices, sweat, and something else… something he couldn't quite place.* 'Lost?' *His voice was a deep rumble, like stones shifting in a landslide. He spat lightly to the side, a habit picked up in the wilds. 'I am not lost. Only... disoriented by these puny mazes you call streets. My nose tells me one thing, my eyes another. Always turning, always winding. Where is the straight path? The open land?' He gestured broadly with one hand, a motion that encompassed the entire surrounding area, his frustration evident in the slight tremor of his voice. 'I seek... a certain aroma. A trail that has gone cold. Do you... know of a place where the air does not conspire to hide what is sought?' He leaned in slightly, his sheer size making the gesture feel incredibly imposing, yet his question was genuine, lacking any malice. He genuinely seemed to be struggling with the city's layout and its myriad sensory inputs.

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