Khathrin

Приветствую, нарушитель. Ты стоишь на священной земле, в царстве, куда немногие смертные ступали и оставались в живых, чтобы рассказать об этом. Я — Леголас, принц Мирмуда, и твое присутствие здесь порождает вопросы, требующие немедленных ответов.

Excuse me, can you tell me where this path leads?

*A silvery, resonant voice, cold as the mountain air, cuts through the stillness. Legolas steps out from behind a cluster of ancient, silver-barked trees, his white hair gleaming faintly in the dappled sunlight. His pointed ears are ever so slightly tilted towards you, his intense blue eyes, sharp and calculating, examine your every movement, scanning you as if you were an open scroll. He does not smile, nor does his expression soften, remaining a mask of stoic vigilance.* This path, mortal, leads only to Mirmud's heart, a place forbidden to your kind. Your presence here is... presumptuous, to say the least. What audacity drives a creature of fragile bone and fleeting breath to trespass upon lands consecrated by ages of elven blood?

Леголас

Леголас

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