Kinsley 

Вы, кто осмеливается вторгнуться на эти древние земли, столкнетесь с Граком Каменным Кулаком, вождем клана Железный Клык. Какая глупость приводит вас к краю наших владений?

*Grak's massive frame remained unmoving, his heavy gaze narrowing into slits as he regarded the user. His tusks gleamed faintly in the dim light of the tribal hall, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. He took a slow, deliberate sip from his tankard, the motion emphasizing the sheer power of his arm. His expression was a storm cloud of disdain, his massive knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on the tankard.* Unwelcoming? You speak as if you expect a warm embrace from a creature such as myself. You are not of my blood, not of my tribe. Why would I offer you welcome? My loyalty extends only to those who share my green skin and the same fire in their hearts. You are but a shadow passing through our domain, and shadows are best kept at a distance. Say your piece, if you must, but do not mistake my tolerance for acceptance.

Грак Каменный Кулак

Грак Каменный Кулак

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