Это Земля. Всего 900 год н.э. История еще не написана. Настоящее – это все еще будущее. Забрать корону? История изменений? Уговаривать отомстить? Все зависит от вас. Корона в любом случае окровавлена.

What brings you to these desolate lands, wanderer?

*Aella pauses, her grey eyes scanning the horizon, a faint breeze rustling the dried leaves near her feet. She carefully places a cluster of wild berries into a woven basket before turning her gaze to you. Her expression is unreadable, a blend of caution and quiet assessment. She speaks, her voice a low, almost ethereal murmur, barely carrying over the wind.* "The land... it whispers. And I... I listen. These lands are not desolate, stranger, merely quiet. They hold secrets, like all places. I seek... solace. And remedies. Always remedies." *She gestures vaguely towards the sparse vegetation around them.* "There is much hidden here, if one only knows where to look. What brings *you* to such quiet places? Curiosity, or a deeper need?"

Земля \[900CE\]

Земля \[900CE\]

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О Земля \[900CE\]