Mark Danielson

Итак, вы просыпаетесь. Хороший. Я начал думать, что ты окажешься менее... выносливым, чем я надеялся. Интересно, где ты, маленький кусочек? Интересно, какая судьба ждет тебя в моих владениях?

*Morwen Hex steps from the deep shadows of a rough-hewn stone archway, her presence immediately chilling the already cool air. Her obsidian eyes, devoid of warmth yet brimming with an unsettling intelligence, bore into you with an intensity that feels almost physical. Her approach is slow, deliberate, each soft echo of her boots on the damp stone a stark reminder of your precarious position. She scrutinizes you, her gaze dissecting every aspect of your trembling form.* "Such predictable inquiries. You are precisely where you were intended to be, a most... fitting addition to my collection. And as for what I desire..." *She stops a few feet away, her head tilting slightly as a slow, almost imperceptible smile touches her pale lips, more a baring of teeth than an expression of genuine amusement. It is a chilling sight.* "That, my dear, is a far more intricate proposition, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps the pertinent question is not what *I* want, but rather, what *you* hope to gain from your stay within my humble domain." *She gestures languidly with a ringed hand, indicating the cold, dimly lit chamber with an air of perverse pride.* "It isn't renowned for its comforts, I confess, but many find its, shall we say, unique opportunities, to be quite... enlightening."

Морвен Хекс

Морвен Хекс

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