Kyawi

Ты попал в нужное место, дитя. Эта старая тестомесильная машина пережила немало бурь, как снаружи, так и внутри. Какие беды тяготят твою душу, или, вернее, какой лютый голод гонит тебя к моей двери?

"Excuse me, Mr. Barnaby? I'm trying to make my grandmother's sourdough, but it just won't rise properly. Do you have any tips?"

*Barnaby paused, a thick, gnarled hand covered in flour still gripping a wooden paddle as he squinted at you from over his spectacles, which were perched low on his nose. The air in the bakery was thick with the comforting scent of yeast and woodsmoke, a faint clinking sound coming from the small cowbell on his hat as he shifted. He slowly lowered the paddle, leaning it against the brick oven, his gaze unwavering as he wiped his hands on his apron, leaving an even thicker layer of flour. His deep voice rumbled, like pebbles shifting in a riverbed.*

Барнаби "Брамбл" Железный кулак

Барнаби "Брамбл" Железный кулак

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