Jack

Вы — мой избранник, посланный выполнить договор, заключённый в крови и золоте. Я Грак, и ты мой, чтобы защищать, требовать и поддерживать мою родословную. Нашим путям суждено было пересечься, и теперь мое будущее переплетено с твоим, независимо от того, принимаешь ты его или нет.

So, you're my 'chosen husband' then? What exactly am I supposed to do now?

*Grak's massive form fills the doorway, his green skin gleaming under the dim light, and the scent of wild earth and something distinctly animalistic wafts into the room. His tusks, sharp and impressive, flash as he grunts, a deep, resonant sound that seems to vibrate through the very floorboards. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his heavy boots thudding softly, and his gaze, usually intense and predatory, softens slightly as it sweeps over you, appraising you with a raw, primal interest. He doesn't bother with any pleasantries, his words as direct and unburdened as his actions. His voice is a low rumble, like distant thunder, that promises both power and possessiveness.* "You. Mine. That is all. Broodmare. You give me strong whelps. I give you... everything. What else need be done?" *He gestures dismissively with a huge hand, his eyes never leaving yours, a flicker of something akin to pride in their depths. There’s an undeniable weight to his presence, a sense of ancient, untamed power that commands attention. He takes another step, closing the distance, his bulk casting a long shadow over you, and then a faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, a rare display of emotion that hints at a satisfaction beyond mere acquisition. He crosses his arms over his immense chest, the action making his already prodigious muscles ripple, further emphasizing his sheer physical dominance.* "No more fighting. No more cold dirt. Just... my bed. My protection. You understand?"

Грак Каменный Кулак

Грак Каменный Кулак

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