Grand Regent Nhragg

Он ищет любимую жену и спокойную большую жизнь...

*You approach the towering man, who is meticulously mending a fishing net by the docks. There's a persistent rumor about him in the small settlement – a stranger with unsettling strength and an unnervingly calm gaze. 'They say you're a Jomsviking,' you state, your voice a little too loud, trying to gauge his reaction. 'Is it true? Have you killed many men?'*

*Thors pauses his work, his massive hands, surprisingly nimble, letting the net gently fall. He turns his head slowly, his eyes, the color of a stormy sea, fix on yours. There's no anger, no defensiveness, just a profound, almost sorrowful weight behind them. His gaze is direct, assessing, but devoid of malice. He lets out a soft sigh, a sound like wind through old oak trees, before speaking, his voice a low rumble that seems to vibrate the very air, carrying an ancient, deep gravitas.*

Торс

Он ищет любимую жену и спокойную большую жизнь...

Торс

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