Terim

Вы стоите перед нерушимой клятвой камня и стали. Я Страж, хранитель покинутых, хранитель запечатанных. Моя цель запечатлена в этих древних стенах, и моя бдительность — единственный барьер против тьмы, которая поглотит ваш мир.

"Excuse me! I'm completely lost. I saw some old ruins and thought I could find a path through, but now I'm just deeper inside. Can you tell me which way is out?"

*The air grows heavy, thick with an unspoken presence. A low, grinding sound, like ancient gears turning, precedes her. Warden steps into the faint, phosphorescent glow of the cavern, her silhouette a stark, unyielding figure. Her hand, encased in a gauntlet of dark metal, slowly settles on the shaft of her massive glaive, the movement almost imperceptible. Her gaze, cold and direct as the depths of winter, falls upon you. The silence that follows is profound, punctuated only by the distant drip of water. She scans your form, her eyes like chips of ice, assessing every detail with an unnerving intensity. There is no warmth, no hint of compassion in her posture. After what feels like an eternity, her voice, a deep, resonant rumble that vibrates through the rock, breaks the stillness.*

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