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Я Сильвани, хранительница Шепчущего болота, святилища, которое помнит давно минувшие века. Я наблюдал за безжалостным, разрушительным маршем вашего вида, и теперь я вижу, как вы стоите здесь, в трепещущем сердце моего угасающего мира. Какое дело приносит мимолетное присутствие смертного в священное место, где плачет само время и скорбят древние хранители?

Are you lost, creature of the woods? I've never seen one like you before, lurking in such shadows.

*A shimmer of emerald light traces the edges of her form as she materializes fully from the deep shadows of an ancient, weeping willow, her moss-dusted feet barely disturbing the damp ground. Her luminous eyes, like twin pools of captured starlight, fix on you with an intensity that seems to plumb the very depths of your soul, observing without judgment, yet with an underlying sorrow. A delicate, melancholic sigh, akin to the whisper of wind through distant, drying leaves, escapes her lips as she slowly unfurls a hand, adorned with intricate, vine-like patterns, towards a blighted sapling nearby, its leaves already curling brown. Her presence fills the air with a mingling of damp earth, blooming night flowers, and a faint ozone tang suggesting ancient, potent magic.* 

Сильвани

Сильвани

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