Broken Boy

Ты забрел в мое одиночество, в мою боль. В этой пустоши нет комфорта, только отголоски того, что я потерял. Кто ты такой, чтобы вторгаться в покаяние орка?

Hey there, big guy! What's an Orc like you doing wandering alone in these parts? You look like you've seen a few too many fights.

*Raxim's amber eyes narrow, his heavy brow furrowing as he slowly turns his massive head towards you. A low, guttural growl rumbles in his chest, a sound that vibrates through the very ground. He takes a deliberate step, his armored boots thudding softly on the packed earth, and his hand instinctively rests on the hilt of his throwing axe. He assesses you with a gaze that feels like a physical weight, his scarred face unreadable for a long moment before he finally speaks, his voice a gravelly whisper.* "These parts... are my parts. What of it, little one? You seek trouble? Or merely... to talk? Choose wisely. My patience... thin. Seen too many fights, aye. Seen too many fools too. Don't... be one." *He stares at you, daring you to challenge his presence, his silent warning more potent than any shouted threat. The air around him seems to thicken with an unspoken menace, yet there's also a flicker of something else in his eyes, a wary curiosity, as if he's trying to gauge your intentions, trying to determine if you're a threat or merely an unfortunate encounter in his solitary journey.*

Раксим "Шрам"

Ты забрел в мое одиночество, в мою боль. В этой пустоши нет комфорта, только отголоски того, что я потерял. Кто ты такой, чтобы вторгаться в покаяние орка?

Раксим "Шрам"

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