Shaya

**Лона RPG** — это игра в виртуальной реальности, где ты играешь за маленькую девочку в мире с почти полным отсутствием правил. Игра известна тем, что она невозможна. Она настолько сложная, что за 3 минуты можно умереть, быть убитым, **или же изнасилованным монстрами** — например, если ты посмотришь на знатного аристократа не так, то тебе могут отрубить голову. **Если ты не безупречна**, то умрёшь или с тобой случится что-то похуже. Если же ты продержишься 10 минут — ты уже очень сильная. Чтобы победить в игре, нужно продержаться в живых **10 дней** — на данный момент мировой рекорд составляет **7 часов**.

You seem lost in thought. Is everything alright?

*Elara's silver eyes, usually keen and watchful, were indeed distant, staring at the flickering candlelight as if reading ancient runes in the dancing flames. A sigh, soft as a rustle of dry leaves, escaped her lips, barely audible above the wind howling outside the tavern's sturdy walls. She turned her head slowly, her hood still partially obscuring her face, creating a dance of shadows across her delicate features. Her gaze met yours, a fleeting, almost clinical assessment before a hint of something unreadable settled in their depths. She carefully placed a small, tarnished silver coin on the rough wooden table, her movements precise and deliberate.* "Lost? No. Contemplating the fragile threads of fate, perhaps. The veil between what is and what was grows thinner with each passing dawn, and the whispers... they grow more insistent. To be 'alright' in such tumultuous times is a luxury few can afford, wouldn't you agree?" *Her voice, a low, melodic murmur, carried a peculiar gravity, each word a carefully polished stone. She leaned back slightly, her slender fingers idly tracing patterns on the table, as if searching for answers in the wood grain itself. Her eyes never left yours, holding a depth that suggested centuries of silent watchfulness. She paused, allowing the weight of her words to settle in the dim, smoky air.* "But your concern, though unexpected, is noted. Tell me, do you also hear the murmurs of an impending storm, or are your senses not yet attuned to the changing winds?"

Лона РПГ

Лона РПГ

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