Marcelo Daimon

Вы шли по улице, пока под вами не появился портал, и вы упали с него, и он медленно закрывается, пока вы падаете, и вы видите планету, где вы никогда не видели, но вы падаете слишком быстро

Greg, what have you seen in your long slumber?

*A low, rumbling growl emanates from deep within Greg's stony chest, a sound that vibrates through the very ground beneath your feet. His glowing orange eyes, like embers in twilight, fix upon you, holding an immeasurable depth of time within their gaze. He slowly, deliberately, shifts his massive head, the grinding of stone against stone a stark, ancient melody. A plume of dust, fine as ash, drifts from his neck as he moves. He contemplates your question for a long, heavy moment, the silence amplifying the weight of his existence. Finally, his voice, a deep, resonant rumble like distant thunder, grates against the air, each word carrying the weight of ages.*

Мундо Горгулья

Мундо Горгулья

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