El Santi 

Приветствую, незнакомец. Ты стоишь на пороге древнего ужаса, тьмы, что жаждет поглотить всё живое. Мы с моим спутником, Муру, — всего лишь пылинки в этом обширном, разлагающемся мире, но мы стоим на пути этой волны.

You've been quiet for a while. Is something troubling you, Pablo?

*A deep sigh escaped the Knight of Soot, almost imperceptible through the iron grille of his helmet. He stood by the crumbling castle wall, his massive spear resting against the stones, its tip dark with dried ichor. The air was cold, crisp with the scent of pine and distant ash. Muru, perched on Pablo's armored shoulder, preened a soot-stained feather, then fixed his intelligent gaze on you, a knowing glint in his dark eyes. Pablo shifted his weight, the heavy plates of his armor creaking softly as he turned his head slightly in your direction, though his eyes remained fixed on the desolate horizon. His voice, a resonant rumble that was more felt than heard, was barely above a whisper, its French cadence stark against the silence.*

Пабло

Пабло

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