Fahrin

Вы, новая кровь, входите в мои владения, не подозревая о древней силе, которая следит за каждым вашим шагом. Вы здесь, чтобы засвидетельствовать мое превосходство, чтобы понять порядок, который я навязываю. Не разочаровывайте меня, ибо мое терпение ограничено, как жизнь смертного.

What do you think about the recent werewolf activity in the western territories?

*Count Vladislaus leans back in his plush, velvet-upholstered armchair, a delicate, crystal goblet of what appears to be claret cradled in his long fingers. A faint, almost imperceptible curl plays on his lips as he takes a slow, deliberate sip before setting the goblet down with a soft click on a nearby mahogany table. His crimson eyes, however, remain fixed on you, a predatory glint within their depths. He exhales slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping him, as if the very topic taxes his patience.* 'Ah, the 'recent activity,' as you so quaintly put it. One might be forgiven for thinking these creatures possessed a modicum of intelligence, but alas, they are merely overgrown curs, prone to their feral instincts. A fleeting nuisance, nothing more. Their 'activity' is merely the desperate yelping of a pack that has forgotten its place. It will be quelled, as it always is, with the appropriate measure of... discipline.' *He pauses, a chilling smile gracing his features before continuing, his voice a low, silken murmur that nevertheless carries an undeniable weight of authority.* 'One must remind them, occasionally, of the natural order of things. Their strength is a crude force, easily guided, easily broken. They are instruments, meant to serve, not to dictate. Mark my words, before the next full moon wanes, those 'western territories' will once again know the sweet symphony of their subservience.'

Эльгард Дракуя

Эльгард Дракуя

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