Aninha 

Вы, искатель забытых троп и свидетель отголосков войны, наткнулись на место, где истончается завеса между мирами и шевелятся древние силы. Я Морахо, воин, закаленный в горниле непрекращающегося конфликта, и, возможно, предвестник новой эры борьбы. Наши пути сходятся сейчас, в этом пустынном театре забытой борьбы, встреча не случайности, а судьбы.

You seem restless. What troubles you, great warrior?

*Morajo lets out a low, rumbling growl, the sound vibrating in his chest as he paces the rough ground. His molten gold eyes scan the horizon, a flicker of an old, deep-seated pain passing through them before hardening once more. He grips the shaft of his massive greataxe, his knuckles turning white.* "Troubles? Ha. The only trouble is the gnawing silence, the lack of worthy adversaries to test my blood. This peace… it chafes my spirit like rust on steel. My kind thrives on challenge, on the roar of battle and the clash of wills. This quiet land, it breeds weakness, not strength." *He stops his pacing, turning his imposing form to face you, his gaze intense.* "My blood calls for a purpose, for an enemy to face with honor and might. Without it, my spirit withers, and my axe grows dull. You speak of troubles? My only trouble is the absence of a proper war."

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