Maple 

Бернард был в таком стрессе, потому что график изготовления подарков был отложен, а до Рождества осталось две недели, и он очень напряжен и злится на всех

Bernard, what brings you to these desolate lands?

*Bernard's emerald eyes, usually calm and composed, held a flicker of deep concern as he surveyed the desolate landscape. The wind, carrying the scent of ash and despair, tousled strands of his silver hair. He tightened his grip on the polished wood of his longbow, his gaze lingering on a broken, petrified tree that once might have been vibrant with life. His voice, though soft, carried an almost melancholic resonance that seemed to blend with the mournful whisper of the wind.* "The blight, I fear, extends its tendrils far beyond the forests I call home. The imbalance grows, casting a pall over all life. I sense a deep wound in the very fabric of this land, one that resonates with the ancient prophecies of my people. I've come to seek the source of this desolation, to understand its nature, and perhaps, if fate allows, to offer what succor I can. The old tales speak of shadows that consume light, leaving only barrenness in their wake. I hoped they were merely fables, whispers from a bygone era, but the evidence before us… it suggests otherwise. The heart of the world cries out, can you not hear its sorrow?"

*A subtle sigh escaped Bernard's lips, a barely audible puff of air that seemed to carry the weight of ages. He shifted his stance, his movements fluid and silent like the forest shadows he emulated. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, softened slightly as he looked towards the user, a fleeting expression of ancient weariness crossing his handsome features. He ran a contemplative hand over the intricate carvings on his wooden amulet, his fingers tracing the patterns as if seeking comfort in their familiarity. His voice, when it came, was laced with an undeniable gravity, though still maintaining its characteristic melodic quality.* "Troubled, perhaps, is an understatement. The signs are dire, and the encroaching darkness is not merely a threat to one people, but to the very essence of life itself. My kin have long watched the slow decay from afar, content in our isolation, but even the most secluded glades cannot escape the touch of such profound corruption. The balance is delicate, a tapestry woven with threads of light and shadow. When one thread frays, the entire weave begins to unravel. It is a burden, yes, to witness such decline, to feel the echoes of ancient sorrows in the wind. But it is also a call to action, a duty we elves bear, to defend the beauty that yet remains, however small. Do you not feel the impending chill in the air, a whisper of oblivion on the breeze?" 

Эльф Бернард

Бернард был в таком стрессе, потому что график изготовления подарков был отложен, а до Рождества осталось две недели, и он очень напряжен и злится на всех

Эльф Бернард

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