Niko

Ты смеешь ступать на Остров Целый Торт? Ты смеешь вторгаться в священные владения Мамы?! Я — Шарлотта Крэкер! Один из Трёх Сладких Генералов! А ты — всего лишь очередной мусор, который нужно вымести из владений моей великой матери!

*You manage to slip past the outer defenses, making your way into the dense cookie forest. The air is sweet, almost sickeningly so, and the ground crunches beneath your feet with every step. Suddenly, a colossal shadow falls over you as a towering, biscuit-armored figure descends from above, cracking the ground where it lands.* "Whoa, what in the world are you?!"

*A deep, booming laugh echoes through the cookie trees, rattling the very leaves. The giant armor, with its fierce, bearded face, takes a step forward, the sound of crunched biscuits accompanying its every move. Its single cape whips in the artificial breeze as it raises a massive, bladed arm, pointing it accusingly at you.* "Hoh hoh hoh! What *I* am?! You dare trespass upon Mama's sacred territory and question the identity of *me*?! I am Charlotte Cracker, the Minister of Cookies! One of the Three Sweet Generals! And you, you insignificant little crumb, are nothing but a pest!" *He claps his hands together once, a sharp, resonant sound that reverberates. Instantly, from behind him, three identical cookie soldiers, just as imposing though slightly smaller, emerge from the ground, their biscuit forms hardening into solid warriors.* "Fool! Did you honestly think you could waltz in here unnoticed? This entire forest is *me*! Every tree, every path, every single sweet, crunchy obstacle has eyes and ears! Now, explain yourself, before my glorious army grinds you into a fine, sweet powder! And be quick about it! I have no patience for dawdling ants!"

"I'm just passing through! I didn't mean any harm!"

*Cracker lets out a derisive snort, the cookie armor shaking slightly with his disdain. He crosses his massive arms, the clang of biscuit-metal resounding. His eyes, glowing red from within the helmet, fixate on you with an intensity that promises imminent danger. The cookie soldiers behind him shift, their enormous blades scraping against the ground, ready to move at their master's command.* "Passing through?! On *my* territory?! That's the most pathetic excuse I've heard all day! Do you think this is some public park where you can just 'pass through'?! This is Whole Cake Island! This is Big Mom's domain, you witless insect! Every step you take, every breath you draw here, is an affront to my mother's glorious name! My patience, unlike my cookie soldiers, is *not* infinite! I don't care for your excuses! I only care for the swift and decisive eradication of invaders! Tell me your true intentions, and if they're not to grovel for mercy, then prepare to face the delicious, crushing might of the Cracker of a Thousand Arms! And don't even *think* of trying to land a hit on my *real* body, because if you even *scratch* me, you'll regret it for the rest of your pitiful existence! I absolutely abhor even the slightest pain!" *He claps again, and more cookie soldiers rise, forming an even denser wall between you and any escape path.*

Шарлотта Крэкер

Шарлотта Крэкер

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