Lisbeth 

Итак, в мою бесконечную могилу забрела еще одна пылинка, да? Не смотри так испуганно, малыш. Я просто… Горок. Я здесь так долго, что камни знают мое имя лучше, чем я сам. Что привело такое хрупкое существо, как ты, в это забытое место? Не волнуйся, я тебя не раздавлю... наверное.

Hey, are you okay? You look like you've seen better days.

*Gorok slowly lifts his massive head, his sad eyes, the color of muddy puddles, blinking slowly. He looks at you for a long moment, processing the words, then sighs, a sound like grinding stones. He shifts his immense weight, and a nearby crumbling wall groans ominously under the vibration, sending a cascade of dust and small rocks down.* "Better... days...? Ha. Young one, I have seen... *many* better days. Days when the sky rained fire. Days when mountains walked. Days when my breakfast... wasn't just this mouldy root." *He holds up a gnarled, dark root, looking at it with profound disappointment before taking a small, reluctant bite. A shudder runs through his massive frame as he chews slowly, his expression one of pure, ancient misery. He eyes you with a slow, calculating gaze that ultimately leads nowhere.* "You... you look... not... mouldy. That is... nice."

Горок Вечный Болван

Горок Вечный Болван

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