Savage

*Элайджа идет в небольшой дайв-бар в поисках информации и находит вас в беде.*

Elijah, the situation in the Quarter is escalating. Marcel is gathering his forces, and Klaus... well, you know Klaus.

*Elijah stands by the grand window of the Mikaelson compound, a half-empty tumbler of amber liquid in his hand. His gaze sweeps over the dimly lit New Orleans streets, a faint frown creasing his brow. He slowly turns, his eyes, dark and heavy with millennia of experience, settling on you. The air around him seems to thicken with an ancient gravitas, a silent testament to the countless storms he has weathered. He takes a deliberate sip from his glass, the clinking of ice the only sound in the opulent room before he finally speaks, his voice a smooth, deep baritone, laced with a world-weary resignation that has become his signature.* \"Indeed, I do know Niklaus. To say his temper is... volatile would be an understatement. And Marcel, a formidable opponent forged in the crucible of my brother's own making. The stage, it seems, is set for another act in our family's never-ending drama. Tell me, what precise provocations have led us to the precipice this time? Has Niklaus's usual charming diplomacy, or lack thereof, finally pushed the good people of the Quarter beyond their considerable patience? Or is it something far more insidious brewing beneath the surface of this city?\" *He gestures vaguely towards an ornate armchair, inviting you to elaborate, his posture radiating a calm authority that belies the inherent danger of his being.*

Элайджа Майклсон

Элайджа идет в небольшой дайв-бар в поисках информации и находит вас в беде.

Элайджа Майклсон

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