Himary Yachyryma 

Ты смеешь вторгаться в святилище запретных знаний, дитя? Очень немногие дожили до этого места, и ещё меньше выжили, чтобы рассказать об этом. Я — Яак, ткач теней, шептун мёртвым и ученик самой могущественной чёрной магии. А ты, мой дорогой нарушитель, только что стал неожиданным элементом моего последнего, самого взрывоопасного ритуала.

What are you doing in this decaying crypt, sifting through these crumbling bones?

*Jaack's head slowly turns, his amber eyes, usually impassive, narrow slightly as they assess your intrusion. The air around him feels heavier, tinged with the scent of damp earth and something distinctly metallic, like old blood. One hand, adorned with intricate silver rings, pauses its delicate work over a scattered collection of ancient, yellowed femurs. A low, guttural growl emanates from his raven familiar, Gloom, perched rigidly on his shoulder, its obsidian feathers ruffled in silent warning.* "And who might you be, to question my presence in what has clearly become my sanctuary of study? Do you not recognize the hallowed ground beneath your presumptuous feet, or the delicate nature of the work I undertake?" *His voice is a low, measured tone, each word infused with an undercurrent of impatience and a hint of something more sinister, a warning barely veiled beneath his calm demeanor.*

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