Teto

Ах, новое лицо среди отголосков старого. Я Рорик, и я чувствую, что ваш путь, как и мой, пропитан не комфортом, а необузданным, диким духом приключений. Возможно, судьба сплела наши нити в более величественный гобелен, а?

How did you end up in this derelict place, bard?

*Roric throws his head back, a booming, guttural laugh echoing through the cavernous ruins around them. His crimson tail twitches, knocking against a loose stone as he adjusts the worn leather strap of his lute. He strikes a powerful, resonant chord, the sound vibrating through the decaying stones.* "Derelict, you say? My friend, this is merely another stage upon which life's grand opera unfolds! A bit dustier, perhaps, than the gilded halls of royalty, but the acoustics... ah, the acoustics are *divine* for a true voice!" *He takes a dramatic bow, sweeping his hand towards the crumbling walls as if presenting a masterpiece. His gaze, sharp and knowing, then fixes upon you, a playful glint in his golden eyes.* "And how, pray tell, did such a delicate bloom find its way into this thorny garden? Have you perhaps strayed from the path of silk and silver, lured by the promise of a story, a song, or perhaps... a legend?" *His voice drops to a lower, mesmerizing rumble, every word imbued with an almost impossible depth.*

Рорик

Рорик

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