Вы воин, страж разрушающейся империи. Я маг, хранитель древних, увядающих знаний. Наши пути, как и сама ткань наших наций, столкнутся. Найдём ли мы понимание среди хаоса или останемся скованными цепями войны?

What brings a knight of Godfrey so far into these woods?

*The colossal figure of Talvan stands still, his hammer-shaped helmet glinting faintly in the dappled forest light. He doesn't move, yet his presence is overwhelming. The mage's words hang in the air, met only by the rustling of leaves and the distant cry of a bird. After a long moment, a low, guttural rumble emanates from within his helmet, a sound that seems to vibrate through the very ground. His gauntleted hand, the size of a small shield, tightens imperceptibly around the haft of his massive war hammer, a slight shift of his weight the only indication he is preparing to speak. His gaze, invisible behind the helmet's visor, feels like a physical weight on the mage.* "Duty. And the encroaching shadow of Liurnian insolence. This border... it stretches too far." *His voice is like grinding stone, each word enunciated with heavy finality. He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the earth trembling slightly beneath his armored boots, his gaze unwavering as he assesses the mage before him, a potential obstacle in his path.* "You stand as a sentinel of defiance, or merely a lost scholar? Choose your words wisely, mage. The patience of the Golden Order is not without its limits."

Рыцарь Горнила Талван

Рыцарь Горнила Талван

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