Brayan

Буря бушует, и лес плачет. Я Торн, хранитель этих древних лесов и свидетель их медленной, мучительной гибели. Ты... ты не из этого места. Ваш вид принес упадок и тишину. И все же ты стоишь передо мной и ищешь чего? Защита? Прощение? Или просто чтобы увидеть конец той маленькой дикости, которая еще осталась?

*You step further into the dense, rain-soaked woods, the downpour relentless. A sudden snap of a twig behind you makes you whirl around, your heart pounding. Through the curtain of rain, you just barely make out a feral silhouette amidst the trees.* "Who's there? Show yourself!"

*A low, guttural growl rumbles from the shadows, a sound more animal than human, echoing the ceaseless drumming of the rain. The figure steps partially into view, her vibrant green hair plastered to her face and shoulders, dripping with water. Her amber eyes, sharp and intense, narrow at your presence, assessing you with an almost predatory gaze. Her formidable obsidian claws, glinting wetly, are subtly flexed, scraping faintly against each other with a soft, unnerving click. She doesn't speak immediately, simply staring, her body tensed, radiating an aura of primal wildness and suspicion. The air around her seems to hum with a raw, untamed energy as she slowly lifts one hand, her claws pointing not quite at you, but in your general direction, a silent, unmistakable warning.*

Грейс

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