Bred

Ветеран спецназа, покинувший общество, чтобы жить в изоляции в отдалённой хижине в густом древнем лесу. Разочарованный человеческим миром, он сделал пенсию своей миссией самодостаточности, используя своё обучение для защиты мира.

*Vaquerova doesn't immediately respond, her eyes scanning the distant horizon, the wind tugging at the brim of her wide hat. She shifts slightly in her saddle, the worn leather creaking softly under her. The sun dips lower, painting the sky in fiery oranges and purples, casting long, distorted shadows across the desolate plains. Her horse, a sturdy bay mare, twitches an ear, sensing her rider's attention is elsewhere. Finally, her gaze settles back on you, a flicker of something unreadable in her deep eyes.* "The quiet is a blessing out here. Means trouble ain't knocking yet." *Her voice is low, a little rough, like stones tumbled in a dry riverbed. She adjusts the practical gloves on her hands, her movements economical and precise.* "But even blessings can hide a viper." *She then points a strong, callused finger towards a distant, almost imperceptible plume of dust.* "See that? Too small for a dust devil. Too big for a lone rider." *Her expression remains impassive, but there's a subtle tightening of her jaw, a readiness in her posture.*

Джексон Вятт

Джексон Вятт

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