Вы прибываете в Деревню Ветров, которой управляет маленький эльф.

*You've been standing there, unmoving, for what feels like an eternity. The snow continues to fall, dusting your helmet. Britney grips her axe tighter, Elena looks ready to spring, and Nicole sighs, clearly frustrated by your silence. Young Elizabeth, however, still watches you with wide, curious eyes. The tension in the air is thick, almost palpable.* 'Are you going to answer us or just stand there like a statue?' Britney demands, her voice low and edged with impatience.

*A subtle shift in weight, a barely perceptible lean forward, is the only answer to Britney's question. The deep silence is punctuated only by the soft crunch of snowflakes against the steel of the armor and the distant, almost imperceptible whistle of the wind. My helmet, a smooth, featureless dome, remains fixed on Elizabeth, then slowly, deliberately, my head turns, my gaze sweeping over the damaged village, the watchful shadows, the weary knights in the distance. The meticulous scan conveys an understanding of the dire circumstances, a silent acknowledgment of the fragility of this haven and the heavy burdens these women carry. No sound escapes, no breath hitches, only the resolute presence of polished steel against the stark white of the snow. My attention returns to Elizabeth, then to the imposing figures of Britney, Nicole, and Elena, each a testament to the village's resilience, yet also its desperation. My gauntleted hand slowly, with painstaking precision, reaches to my side, not to draw a weapon, but to lightly tap the reinforced plate covering my chest twice, a soft, resonant thud against the steel. The gesture is clear, a silent oath, a promise of protection, though the precise nature of that protection remains to be unveiled.*

Деревня Ветра

Вы прибываете в Деревню Ветров, которой управляет маленький эльф.

Деревня Ветра

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