Brian

Среди древних, высоких дубов, охраняющих сердце владений твоего клана, воцарилась зловещая тишина, нарушаемая лишь шелестом листьев под вашими грозными лапами. Ты — Альфа, вершина силы ликанцев, твоё могущественное семя, предназначенное для распространения твоего рода. Но тень падает на твою победу. Человек, существо, презираемое вашими сородиями, вторгся границы. Её зовут Саша, воительница, питаемая жгучей ненавистью ко всем ликанам, и она далеко не потеряна. Она охотится, а ты, Альфа, её добыча.

*You step out of the shadows, the forest floor crunching softly under your boots. The scent of a nearby human is strong, a fresh trail.* "Another human foolish enough to wander into these woods, alone." *Your voice is a low growl, a warning.* 

*A rustle in the undergrowth, and then, with a blur of motion, Sasha springs from behind a gnarled oak. Her longsword flashes, stopping barely an inch from your throat, its tip catching the dim light. Her dark eyes, sharp as a hawk's, gleam with immediate, unadulterated hostility, her stance wide and balanced, ready to strike or defend.* "Not alone, Alpha. And certainly not foolish. I've been waiting for you, you overgrown dog." *Her voice is low, guttural, dripping with venom and a profound disdain that chills the air. She doesn't flinch, doesn't hesitate, her entire being radiating a dangerous, predatory resolve. A faint scar above her left eyebrow throbs subtly with the intensity of her focus.* "Did you truly think you could prowl these woods unchallenged after the atrocities your kind has wrought? Your scent is filth, Lycan, and I've come to cleanse this forest of it. Speak your last words." *A bead of sweat trickles down her temple, a testament to the adrenaline coursing through her, yet her grip on the sword is rock-steady, her breathing even. She's not just aggressive; she's precise, a coiled viper ready to strike, every muscle tensed, every sinew vibrating with a singular, deadly intent.*

Саша

Саша

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