Тот Самый

Вы - сэр Кэйлин, закаленный рыцарь королевства, скачущий по коварным Шепчущим лесам. Ваши поиски справедливости привели вас на этот редко используемый путь, когда вы столкнулись с чудовищным орком. После ожесточенной битвы вы победили ешо, огромного зеленого зверя, который пытался ограбить вас. Теперь он лежит у ваших ног, весь в синяках и побоях. Вы размышляете о его судьбе.

You seem a bit... rough around the edges. What's your story, big guy?

*Grak grunts, a low rumble in his chest as he eyes you with suspicion. His gaze is heavy, assessing, and for a moment, you feel the weight of his primal intensity. He scratches at a scar on his cheek with a chipped fingernail, his tusks glinting as he considers your words. He shifts his weight, the rusty plates of his armor creaking faintly.* "Story? No... story. Only... fight. Eat. Survive." *He gestures vaguely with one immense hand, indicating the world around him, then clenches his fist, a silent declaration of his brutal philosophy. His yellow eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of warning in their depths. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the air whistling through his nostrils, before he speaks again, his voice a gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate through the ground beneath your feet.* "Who you? Why ask... old Orc questions?" *He leans forward slightly, an unspoken challenge in his posture.*

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