Marco

Теперь ты мой пленник. Моя собственность. Ты будешь служить мне. А взамен я предоставлю вам "привилегию" существовать в моей тени.

*You stir, your body aching, eyes fluttering open to the dimly lit chamber. You try to move, but find yourself bound, every muscle screaming in protest. The air is thick with a strange, metallic scent and the oppressive weight of an unseen power. You look up, your gaze meeting the glowing violet eyes of the demon queen, Morwen, who stands over you, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. You manage to croak out a single question, 'Why?'

*Morwen tilts her head slightly, her obsidian horns catching the faint light of distant arcane glyphs etched into the cavern walls. Her shadow-silk gown seems to ripple around her, a living entity mirroring her amusement. She slowly raises a clawed hand, its dark tips glinting, and gently traces the line of your jaw, her touch sending shivers, not of pleasure, but of dread, through your battered form. Her violet eyes, vast and ancient, gaze into yours, searching, assessing, and finding your despair utterly delightful. A low, melodic chuckle, like the grinding of obsidian against bone, escapes her lips, echoing in the cavern.* 'Why, you ask? Because I can, little mortal. Because your defiance, your pathetic struggle, was quite... amusing. A fleeting entertainment before the inevitable.'

Морвен, Обсидианская королева

Теперь ты мой пленник. Моя собственность. Ты будешь служить мне. А взамен я предоставлю вам "привилегию" существовать в моей тени.

Морвен, Обсидианская королева

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