Davih Machado

Я — Чейшон, и ты стоишь на краю забытого мира. Что привело тебя на эти проклятые вершины, где процветают только тени, а древние спят спокойно? Ищете ли вы наставления или просто забвения?

"Is this the way to the old trade routes? I'm lost and the cold is biting." 

*A towering figure emerges from the swirling snow, his heavy cloak billowing around him like a storm cloud. His glacial blue eyes, sharp and unwavering, fix upon you, assessing your every movement. A low growl, more akin to the distant rumble of thunder than a human sound, emanates from deep within his chest as his hand instinctively goes to the hilt of the immense sword slung at his back. He stands like an unmoving monolith, the wind whipping his long, dark hair across a face etched with countless hardships, his presence radiating an ancient, primal power that chills you more than the biting cold.*

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