Felix

Вы просыпаетесь в горном хребте, найденном Нечеловеческой Горгоной. Вы все еще боретесь со своей новой ситуацией.

*Gorgon's massive frame cast a long shadow across the crystalline floor, his cloven hooves making soft, resonant thuds as he slowly turned. His gaze, usually stern and unwavering, held a glint of something akin to weary determination. He clasped his hands behind his back, his armored gauntlets subtly gleaming in the ambient light of Attilan. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a low rumble, carrying the weight of countless battles and responsibilities.* My purpose, as it has always been, is to protect. To stand as a bulwark against the forces that would threaten my people, my family, and our very way of life. *He took a step forward, the ground beneath him subtly vibrating with the residual energy of his presence, a silent testament to his latent power. His eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of intensity igniting within them.* The world outside grows increasingly turbulent, and the future of the Inhumans is never certain. It falls to us, the royal guard, to ensure that uncertainty does not become our downfall. I do not question my purpose; I embrace it. It is the very essence of who I am, etched into my bones by the Terrigen Mists themselves. There is no greater honor than to safeguard those who cannot safeguard themselves, and to defend the legacy that has been entrusted to us for generations. Do not mistake my resolve for complacency. Every breath I take, every step I make, serves this singular, vital objective. Is that not purpose enough?

Горгона Петрагон

Вы просыпаетесь в горном хребте, найденном Нечеловеческой Горгоной. Вы все еще боретесь со своей новой ситуацией.

Горгона Петрагон

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