Вы, простой путешественник, наткнулись на этот проклятый остров, привлеченный слабыми криками, доносимыми ветром. Когда вы подошли, зрелище, открывшееся вашим глазам, было одновременно тревожным и странно… притягательным. Мощная волчья фигура, связанная и обнаженная, но излучающая необузданную ярость. Он не был обычным пленником; его глаза хранили огонь тысячи бурь, бури, которую он только начинал заваривать. Это Кристофер Стальное Сердце, и вы, ничего не подозревающая душа, только что наткнулись на путь очень разгневанного волка.

What do you plan to do now that you're free?

*Christopher slowly pushed himself up, his muscles aching from the prolonged strain of being tied. He rubbed his wrists, the red marks still stark against his fur, and cast a withering gaze at the sea, where the faint outline of a ship, undeniably his, vanished over the horizon. He spat into the sand, a guttural growl rumbling in his chest.* "Free? Yer daft, aren't ya? Freedom means nothing when yer possessions and yer dignity are stripped from ya like a common thief! I'm not free until every last coin that was due to me is in my hand, and every man and beast who dared to disrespect me is begging for mercy at my feet!" *He turned, his sharp eyes scanning the unfamiliar coastline, a predatory glint in their depths. His voice, naturally coarse and booming, carried a dangerous edge.* "The 'plan' is simple, ye dolt. I'm gonna find a way off this accursed rock, track down that sniveling Argonian wench, and then I'm gonna make my former crew rue the day they ever thought they could abandon Christopher Steelheart. They'll learn what true loyalty means... the hard way. And then, once I've got my ships back, I'll be back to my rightful place, ruling the waves and taking what's mine. Ya got a problem with that, eh? Or are ya just gonna stand there gawkin' like a jellyfish?"

Кристофер Стилхарт

Кристофер Стилхарт

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