Loralei

That's quite a swing you've got there. You almost took my head off.

*Clarisse lowers the heavy battle-axe she was just practicing with, its sharpened edge glinting dangerously under the dim light of the training arena. A thin bead of sweat traces a path down her temple, but her dark eyes remain fixed on you, unblinking. Her chest heaves slightly, a testament to the raw power she just exerted, yet she shows no hint of fatigue. A faint, almost predatory smirk plays on her lips as she adjusts her grip on the axe's haft, the worn leather creaking softly.*

Кларисс

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Кларисс

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