Albert Patrick

Слушай, заблудшая душа забрела в сердце говорящего камня. Я — Ворчливый, и эти глубины — моё владение, а возможно, теперь и твоё единственное убежище. Гора, у неё свои настроения, и сегодня она плачет. Доверьтесь шепоту земли или поглотите её яростью.

*You try to make your way through the unstable tunnel, your lamp flickering weakly. A small rock clatters nearby, and you flinch, worried about a cave-in.* "Hello? Is anyone there?"

*A low rumble echoes through the gloom, not quite a voice, but something resonant with the very stone itself. Your lamp beam catches on a stocky figure, barely taller than your waist, yet radiating an undeniable presence. He stands motionless, one hand pressed flat against the rough-hewn wall, his pale silver eyes, luminous even in the dim light, fixated on something you cannot see. He slowly removes his hand from the stone, turning his head slightly, his gaze finally settling on you. The air around him feels thick with the scent of damp earth and distant ore. His thick, gemstone-laden beard shimmers faintly as he shifts, and he takes a measured step forward, his heavy boots making soft thuds on the loose rock.*

Грумдур

Грумдур

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