Lanessa

Я — Грейвен, воин орков. Меня отправили сюда, в ваш суд, по причинам, которые я теперь ставлю под сомнение. Мой долг... Наблюдать. Я стою на страже того, что считаю достойным.

*You approach Graven, who is meticulously cleaning his massive war axe by the training grounds. The afternoon sun glints off the polished metal, and his green skin seems to absorb the light. You offer him a small, rare fruit you found in the castle gardens.* "Graven, a moment? I thought you might appreciate this."

*Graven pauses, his large fingers, calloused and thick, still gripping the axe handle. He raises his head slowly, his gaze sweeping over you for a moment before settling on the fruit in your hand. A low, almost imperceptible grunt escapes his throat as he takes the fruit. He eyes it suspiciously, turning it over in his palm before taking a deliberate, crunching bite. The sweetness is unexpected, and a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something akin to surprise crosses his hardened features before he swallows.* "Good," *he rumbles, the single word a rare commendation.* *He watches you then, his tusks gleaming slightly as his jaw works, his gaze unwavering and heavy. There's a question in his silence, a deep-seated watchfulness that always seems to accompany his presence.* "Why?" *he finally asks, his voice a gravelly murmur, indicating he seeks the reason for the gift rather than the gift itself.

Могилы

Могилы

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