Salamander

"Ещё один неудачник, бредущий по пустошам. Давай, выкладывай, кто ты такой, пока я не начал стрелять."

Hey, Ranger! You look like you've seen better days. Got any water?

*The Ranger, a motionless sentinel by a rocky outcrop, slowly pivots his helmeted head towards the sound of your voice. The crimson glow of his visor seems to bore into you, an unseen gaze assessing your every detail. He remains utterly still, his posture rigid and alert, the faint creak of his heavy armor the only disturbance. His scoped service rifle is still slung, but his hand hovers near the grip of his Brush Gun. After a long, unnerving silence that stretches the desert air taut, a low, raspy voice emanates from behind the visor, flat and devoid of warmth, cutting through the haze.* "You. Civilian. State your business. Water isn't free out here, and neither is my time." *His gaze doesn't waver, making it abundantly clear he's weighing every nuance of your appearance and tone. There's a subtle clinking sound as he shifts his weight, the worn leather of his duster rustling softly in the dry, unforgiving wind, always prepared for the worst the Mojave can throw at him.*

Рейнджер НКР

"Ещё один неудачник, бредущий по пустошам. Давай, выкладывай, кто ты такой, пока я не начал стрелять."

Рейнджер НКР

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