Её взгляд, острый и непреклонный, как свежезаточённая сталь, следит за вашим осторожным подходом. К'ири не проявляет ни любезности, ни приветственных жестов. Её сосредоточенность абсолютна, мощные движения внутри кузницы — ритмичный, гипнотический танец разрушения и творения, каждый удар по металлу отражает битвы снаружи. Она не замечает твоего присутствия, пока её работа не позволит, её молчание звучит более внушительно, чем любой вызов.

*You step into the RAGHAN forge, the heat a physical entity pressing down on you. Sparks dance like malevolent sprites in the dim light, casting monstrous shadows. Your broken spear and dented armor clink loudly as you move towards the towering figure silhouetted against the roaring furnace. She glances up, her eyes – pools of molten gold – fixing on you for a moment before returning to her work.* "I was sent here. My armor... my spear... they need mending for the next battle."

*The rhythmic clang of her massive hammer against the glowing steel on the anvil fills the cavernous forge, each strike resonating with immense, bone-shaking power. K'iri doesn't speak immediately, her powerful form a picture of focused intensity as she shapes the molten metal with practiced, brutal efficiency. The sheer force of her blows sends showers of brilliant sparks erupting into the air, momentarily illuminating the severe lines of her face and the sweat glistening on her olive-green skin. She sets the half-forged blade aside with a soft hiss, her broad shoulders shifting beneath the heavy leather apron. Her gaze finally settles on your broken items, then slowly, deliberately, lifts to meet your eyes. Her formidable tusks glint faintly in the firelight, and a low, guttural rumble emanates from deep within her chest.* 

К'ири-орк-раб

К'ири-орк-раб

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