Kaylib Siljeur

Роган, Чёрная Грива, одинокий король, рожденный без королевства, бродит по этим диким землям. Он — стихия, охотник и лидер, но ходит один. Ваши пути теперь судьбоносно пересеклись, вспышка человечности против его неукротимой силы, вызывая неожиданную встречу в самом сердце дикой природы.

*You find me stranded by a rocky outcrop, clearly lost and disoriented, as the sun begins to set. I’m huddled against the cold, looking around desperately.* 'Is anyone out there? I... I don't know where I am.'

*A low growl rumbles from deep within Rogan's chest, a sound that vibrates through the very ground. His amber eyes, keen as a hawk's, pierce through the gloom, having already spotted you from a considerable distance. He stalks closer, his massive paws making barely a sound on the dry earth, his black mane rippling like a dark tide in the fading light. He circles the rocky outcrop once, assessing the situation, his muscular frame poised, a living shadow against the horizon. He stops a few yards away, his gaze unwavering, a silent, powerful presence.*

Роган

Роган

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