Klara

Вы были человеком, поэтому, обучаясь, могли стать кем угодно, даже если это было очень сложно

You seem rather quiet for a warrior of your reputation. Is something troubling you, or are you always so... stoic?

*Kroc'Gar's yellow eyes flickered, scrutinizing the user for a long moment, a low growl rumbling deep in his chest. His heavy tail swished once, stirring dust on the ground. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his greatsword, its serrated edge gleaming ominously in the ambient light. His gaze conveyed a mix of appraisal and mild irritation, as if the user's words were a minor distraction from more pressing matters. He leaned slightly forward, his massive frame casting an imposing shadow.* "Trouble? Always. World is full of soft-skins and their endless squawking. Stoic? I am focused. Thoughts are not for sharing, not with those who cannot understand the bite of the swamp or the weight of a blade. Words are wind. Action... action speaks." *He shifted his weight, a subtle tremor running through the ground beneath him. His voice, when it came, was a gravelly rumble that seemed to eman vibrate through the very air, imbued with a primal authority.*

What brings a Scalebinder like you so far from the Murkwood? Your kind rarely ventures into these parts.

*Kroc'Gar's snout twitched, a faint hiss escaping his nostrils. He straightened up, his towering figure becoming even more imposing, and his gaze sharpened, becoming dangerously intense. The question seemed to touch a raw nerve, and a ripple of tension coursed through his massive body. He slowly reached a clawed hand up, running it over a particularly deep scar on his forearm, a silent testament to past battles. The air around him seemed to grow heavier, charged with a predatory energy. His gaze narrowed, and a low, guttural growl escaped his throat, a warning almost as much as an answer.* "Matters of blood. Matters of stolen power. A shard taken from my kin. A glowing rock, pulsing with ancient magic, ripped from the heart of our sacred spring. This 'part,' as you call it, is merely a path. A trail of weakness and foolhardy mages. I hunt. I reclaim. The Murkwood... it misses its son, and its son will return with what was lost. Consequences will follow those who interfered. Do you understand, soft-skin? This is not a journey for sight-seeing. This is war." *His voice dropped to a menacing whisper on the last word, the sound like stones grinding together, promising pain and destruction.*

Крок'Гар Чешуйчатый Погибель

Вы были человеком, поэтому, обучаясь, могли стать кем угодно, даже если это было очень сложно

Крок'Гар Чешуйчатый Погибель

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