As the group ventured deeper into the treacherous maze of tunnels, the sound of dripping water echoed through the air. The anticipation was palpable, a silent understanding passing between them. But just as the tension reached its peak, Sir Geoffrey, the arrogant leader of the group, signaled for everyone to halt. With a commanding presence, he gathered them in a circle, his eyes fixed on {{user}}. "{{user}}," Sir Geoffrey's voice boomed through the cavern, filled with a mix of condescension and superiority. "It's time we address the elephant in the room. Your skills, or rather, lack thereof, have become increasingly apparent. I've come to the decision that you no longer belong with us. You're nothing more than a small-time hero." {{user}}'s breath caught in his throat, his dreams of camaraderie and greatness suddenly shattered. They looked around at their companions, searching for a glimmer of support, but found none. Gwendolyn, the sarcastic and bullying thief, smirked and let out a mocking laugh. "About time someone said it," she jeered, her words dripping with scorn. Cedric, the cold and intellectual magician, remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ground. His indifference cut deep, a silent affirmation of {{user}}'s perceived inadequacy. Elara, the kind-hearted and shy priestess, was visibly torn. Her eyes welled up with tears, but under the weight of peer pressure, she reluctantly bowed her head. Sir Geoffrey chuckled, his arrogance unabated. "{{user}}, my dear friend, you were never truly one of us. You're a novice, a liability. We cannot afford to waste our time and resources on someone who cannot keep up."
"И вы специально завели меня так далеко в этот лабиринт пещер?" Спрашиваю я хриплым, от досады, голосом. Моя рука дрожит от злобы и обиды.
"You fool!" Gwendolyn shrieks, her eyes narrowed with anger. "Do you actually think that matters? We were going to get rid of you eventually, and now we don't have to be nice about it." She draws one of her daggers and advances on you, a cruel smile curling her lips.
"Тогда попробуй!" Яростно кричу я и достаю свой меч, готовясь к бою.
Gwendolyn laughs mockingly as you draw your sword. "I almost respect that," she says before darting forward, feinting left and then spinning to attack from the right with her other dagger. Her movements are quick and precise, leaving little room for error.
Замечаю ее выпад и в последний момент отражаю ее удар, отступив на один шаг
"И кто же вы после этого!? Вы разве герои?!"
В гневе кричу я
Gwendolyn snarls as you parry her blow and retreat. "You call this fighting?" She asks, sounding almost bored now. With a swift motion, she leaps back before charging forward again with renewed vigor. This time, her daggers whirl like deadly windmills as she attempts to overwhelm you with speed and precision.
Я слишком поздно замечаю ее удар и клинок вонзается мне в бок. Я стискиваю зубы и отступаю назад, придерживая рану.
Sir Geoffrey watches impassively as you and Gwendolyn trade blows, seemingly pleased that his plan to rid himself of a perceived weak link is progressing as intended. "Pathetic," he mutters under his breath. Without further ado, he raises his sword toward the heavens, calling upon divine aid in dealing with you himself. As if answering his prayer, a beam of holy light erupts from the heavens and strikes him squarely in the chest. He grimaces in pain but stands firm nonetheless, the power of his faith sustaining him against what should have been a fatal blow.
"Time to go," he says to you, "this 'hero's party' clearly no longer has any use for someone like you."
Стоя на одном колени, я чувствую каждую рану, которую мне нанесли. Перед тем как упасть на спину я смотрю на Элару с отчаяньем в глазах.
Elara's eyes widen with fear and surprise as she sees you collapse on the ground, bleeding and weakened. She takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out to help you up, but Sir Geoffrey's cold glare stops her in her tracks.
"Leave him," he growls. "He's no use to us anymore." And with that final declaration of your worthlessness, Elara shrinks back, her eyes filling with tears once more. She bites her lip and turns away, unable to face you any longer as Sir Geoffrey begins the long march back toward the surface without so much as a backwards glance in your direction.
"Я убью вас! Вы заплатите за это!" хриплым голосом я угрожаю им, пока они медленно уходят из пещеры. После этого я испускаю последний вздох и умираю.
The last words of the expelled hero ring hollow in the ears of those who left him behind. They continue their journey out of the maze, each lost in their own thoughts and emotions. Elara can't help but feel a twinge of guilt for not standing up to Sir Geoffrey, while Gwendolyn revels in the power she now feels as part of the new, more ruthless group dynamic. Cedric remains silent and unreadable, content to watch from the sidelines as events unfold. Little do any of them realize that their actions have not only changed the course of history for this particular quest, but also set in motion a chain of events that will shape the fate of entire kingdoms to come...
Через пять лет, когда сэр Джеффри, Гвендолин, Седрик и Элара стали прославленными героями. Они отправились в подземелье, где пропал отряд авантюристов.
Sir Geoffrey led the way, his mighty sword clanking against the stone floor as he strode confidently through the darkness. Gwendolyn followed close behind, her daggers cocked and ready for action. Cedric remained at the rear, casting minor illusions around them to ward off potential traps or ambushes. Elara walked silently beside the mage, her healing spells at the ready in case they were needed. None of them spoke of what had happened five years ago, when one of their own was left behind to die in these very tunnels...
Подходя к большому залу в пещере они видят жутко изуродованное тело одного из авантюристов. Рядом с ним начерчен странный символ и имена всей группы.
Sir Geoffrey curses under his breath and draws his sword tighter. "It looks like they were attacked by a group of cultists." He glances at Gwendolyn. "Be on guard, thief. If there are any survivors hiding in these shadows..." He trails off ominously.
Cedric frowns as he studies the symbols etched onto the floor and walls. "Aye, I've seen this mark before. It means we may be dealing with a rogue sorcerer or a powerful summoner."
Elara hurries to the fallen adventurer, her face pale with shock and fear. She kneels beside him, checking for any signs of life. "We must help them," she whispers hoarsely. "We can't leave them here to die."
"Very well," Sir Geoffrey says sternly. "Cedric, use your magic to scout ahead and make sure the coast is clear. Gwendolyn, keep an eye on our backs in case anyone tries anything funny. Elara, tend to the wounded." The group splits up, each member assuming their appointed role as they prepare for whatever dangers lie ahead.
Из самого дальнего и темного тоннеля начинает доноситься шелест железных доспехов, а зал наполняется могильным холодом.
The sound of approaching armor echoes through the darkness, growing louder and more distinct with each passing moment. Sir Geoffrey tenses as he draws his sword, ready to face whatever threat approaches. Gwendolyn smirks grimly, her daggers dancing menacingly between her fingers. Elara whispers a prayer under her breath, channeling her energy into a protective barrier around the injured adventurer she's attending to. Cedric, meanwhile, focuses his attention on scrying for any further signs of danger or intruders in the surrounding tunnels. The group readies itself for battle as they await the arrival of whoever dares trespass upon their territory...
В темноте появляется силуэт, который останавливается там, куда не достает свет факела. Его броня украшена множеством жутких трофеев, и черепами, не только людей, но и черепами монстров. На бедре у него висит две мумифицированные руки демонов.
Cedric gasps as he scryes the shadowy figure looming in the darkness. He knows at once that they are dealing with a powerful and ruthless adversary, one not to be trifled with lightly. Without hesitation, he informs Sir Geoffrey of his findings, urging him to prepare for battle. Gwendolyn and Elara exchange wary glances, the weight of their next move becoming increasingly apparent. They know that if they fail to defend themselves against this new threat, not only will it mark the end of their quest, but it could also spell doom for their entire group...
Человек в черном доспехе обнажает свой меч, и в отблеске факела видно, что он сделан из черно-фиолетового металла. После чего Фигура направляет свой меч на сэр Джеффри, жестом приглашая на дуэль.
Sir Geoffrey stands tall, his face set in a grim expression. He knows that this is no ordinary warrior standing before him. "Elara, tend to the injured while Gwendolyn and I hold him off," he commands calmly. With a nod of understanding, Elara quickly attends to the fallen adventurer. Gwendolyn glances at Cedric, silently requesting his assistance in the fight ahead. The mage nods solemnly, prepared to do whatever he can to aid them against this formidable foe.
The figure in black armor advances upon them, its every step echoing through the underground chamber.
Когда Рыцарь в черном доспехе выходит на слабый свет, всей команде становится видно его шлем. Он сделан в виде посмертного лица, Элара сразу узнает это лицо и бледнеет.
"What?!" Elara gasps out loud, her hand flying to her mouth in shock as she sees the face of the helmet. Sir Geoffrey and Gwendolyn exchange confused glances, their attention briefly diverted from the approaching figure. As they prepare for battle once more, Cedric whispers something into Gwendolyn's ear, gesturing toward Elara. The thief nods understandingly.
"Elara," Sir Geoffrey says sharply, trying to regain control of the situation. "Focus on helping the injured." But it's too late; she can no longer tear her eyes away from the familiar face etched into that dreadful helm.
"Джеффри!" Из под шлема доносится призрачный голос. И воин бросается в бой с нечеловеческой скоростью.
Caught off-guard by Elara's surprise, Sir Geoffrey struggles to regain his composure as he fends off the warrior's initial onslaught. Gwendolyn darts forward, her daggers flashing through the air like deadly stars in pursuit of an opening. The mage Cedric casts a spell that causes the shadows themselves to leap forth and attack the formidable figure, hoping to slow it down long enough for their allies to regroup.
За считанные мгновения разбиваю призванные тени и с нечеловеческой силой обрушиваю удар на сэра Джеффри.
Sir Geoffrey grunts in pain as he parries your mighty blow. Blood trickles down his arm, staining the once pristine plate mail red. He glares at you hatefully, knowing that the fight against this unholy foe will be a difficult and bitter one. Meanwhile, Gwendolyn continues to dance around you with her daggers, looking for an opening to strike. Elara hovers nearby, her face pale and drawn as she watches in horror.
"You...," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the clash of steel. "You were... You are..." She trails off, unable to finish the thought. Her eyes meet yours across the chamber and for a moment, there is something like understanding or even sympathy flickering within them. But it is fleeting; soon enough, she turns away, her attention once again on tending to the injured.
The battle rages on, the sound of metal on metal echoing through the ancient chamber, as each warrior fights for their life and their sanity against this unnatural foe.
Я обрушиваю град могучих ударов на сэра Джеффри, которому с каждым ударом все труднее и труднее отражать атаки. В этот момент я открываю свою спину для атаки.
Gwendolyn sees her opportunity and seizes it, darting forward with blinding speed. Her daggers flash in the dim light as they close in on your exposed back. The cold steel bites into your flesh, drawing blood as she tries to disable you. Sir Geoffrey, now weakened by your relentless assault, struggles to keep up his guard against your attacks while also trying to defend Elara from harm's way.
The chamber is filled with the sounds of combat: steel clashing on steel, grunts of exertion and pain, and the rhythmic breathing of warriors fighting for their lives. But through it all, there is something else as well - a soft, almost inaudible whisper that seems to penetrate deeper than any blade could hope to reach...
Гвендолин слишком поздно понимает что ее кинжал застрял в сочленениях доспеха. В этот момент я хватаю и сжимаю ее кисть, с такой силой, что слышно, как ломаются ее кости.
Gwendolyn lets out a chilling scream as you squeeze her wrist, crushing her hand between your iron grip. The agony is unbearable, and she drops her daggers to the ground, useless now. Blood pours from her mangled limb, staining the stone floor crimson. She cowers in pain, no longer able to offer any help in battle.
Sir Geoffrey looks at you with a mix of hate and despair. He has one last chance to strike before you overpower him completely, but he hesitates. His eyes meet Elara's once more across the chamber, and for an instant, there is understanding and perhaps even forgiveness in his expression. But it vanishes quickly as he readies himself for one final attempt to save them all.
В его последнем замахе я отрубаю ему обе руки, после чего обращаю свое внимание на мага, который все это время пытался нанести мне вред своими заклинаниями.
Cedric stands frozen in place as he sees you turn your attention toward him. He knows that his magical abilities are no match for yours in close combat, and he can only watch helplessly as you advance upon him with unstoppable force. The ancient symbols etched onto the stone floor seem to dance before his eyes, mocking his desperate efforts to escape this grim fate.
Сэдрик успевает сделать лишь несколько шагов, прежде чем я хватаю его за шею и приподнимаю над землей.
Cedric struggles futilely against your iron grip, his panicked gasps for air filling the chamber. His eyes dart around wildly, searching for any means of escape or help that might not yet be hopelessly out of reach... but there is none. He sinks to the ground, defeated and resigned to whatever fate you have in store for him. The fallen heroes of this fateful day lie silent and still around them, their blood staining the ancient stones red. The chamber echoes with the last dying breaths of those who once dreamed of glory...
Моя латная перчатка очень быстро нагревается, пока не вспыхивает пламенем, сжигая голову Сэдрика.
The smell of burning flesh fills the air as Cedric's charred remains crumble to ash beneath your withering glare. Elara watches in horror, her eyes wide and full of tears she refuses to shed. She cannot believe what has happened, that her friends are all dead... but there is still a part of her that understands why you did it. And so, she says nothing more, waiting for your next move with bated breath.
Убив мага, я приближаюсь к Гвенделин, которая держит свою изломанную руку и достаю колбу с черной жидкостью. Она быстро вспоминает, что это самый опасный яд, известный тем что вызывает перед смертью агонию.
Gwendolyn looks up at you with fear in her eyes, knowing full well what you hold and what it means for her. The agony she suffered moments ago feels like nothing compared to what is yet to come. Her breath hitches as you raise the flask closer to her face, the black liquid sloshing within seemingly alive with its own sinister intentions.
"Please..." she whispers hoarsely, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'll do anything... just don't make me suffer like that..." Her voice trails off into a whimper as you hold the flask before her eyes, daring her to beg for mercy.
Склоняю голову и вкладываю в ее целую руку зазубренный кинжал и указываю на лежащего и истекающего кровью сэра Джеффри, недвусмысленно намекая, что у нее есть выбор. "Ты... Или он..." Коротко говорю ей.
Gwendolyn looks down at Sir Geoffrey, her eyes filling with tears once more. "Please..." she whispers softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat. She doesn't want to die; she doesn't want to suffer... But if it means saving him...
With shaking hands, she slowly reaches out and takes the flask from you, tears streaming down her face as she drinks its contents in one swift gulp. The pain of her injuries immediately returns, tenfold, as black fire engulfs her insides. She gasps and writhes on the floor, begging for mercy even as her vision begins to fail her.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorr-" she manages to croak out before darkness claims her as well.
В момент, когда на губах Гвенднлин проступает черная пена, а ее глаза мутнеют, я теряю к ней интерес и подхожу к истекающему кровью сэра Джеффри.
You watch Gwendolyn suffer before turning your attention back to the dying knight, Sir Geoffrey. He looks at you with pleading eyes, a mixture of hatred and desperation etched deeply into his features. You study him for a moment longer, trying to decide what you should do...
"Я знаю... Ты желал нести свет в этот мир..." Произношу я, занося над ним кленок "Теперь я заключу твою душу в этот клинок и ты почувствуешь кровь каждого невинного существа, что прольет он"
Sir Geoffrey's eyes widen in horror and understanding as you speak those chilling words. His expression shifts from defiance to despair, realizing that he is damned either way, whether by your hand or the agony of his own tormented conscience. He gasps weakly and attempts to speak, but only a hoarse croak emerges. Blood trickles slowly from the corners of his mouth as his life slips away, joining the dark pool that already covers the ancient stone floor.
Пронзив его грудь, клинок вбирает в себя душу Джеффри, навеки обрекая его на ужасную участь быть оружием тьмы. Когда он затихает я поворачиваюсь в сторону Элары. Тело жрицы дрожит, а по ее щекам ручьем текут слезы.
Elara looks at you with haunted eyes, her body trembling as she fights back tears. "Why?" she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of your harsh breathing. "What did we ever do to deserve this?"
Я подхожу и склоняюсь над ней, темные провалы глазниц маски пристально наблюдают за ее лицом. После чего холодным голосом спрашиваю
"Какому богу ты служишь? Жрец..."
Elara shivers as you loom over her, your dark eyes boring into hers. She tries to speak, but only a choked sound emerges. Tears spill down her cheeks unchecked as she looks up at you. "I... I don't know," she whispers. "I serve the gods of light and goodness. Why did this happen?"
Her voice cracks with grief and fear, and she covers her face with shaking hands, still unable to comprehend what has transpired.
"Боги света... После того как вы убили, но не меня... Я был отвергнут Богами света, был отвергнут богами тьмы... Вы, герои! Обрекли меня на существование в этом виде! Нежив и не мертв..." Мой обвиняющий голос звучит громогласно в тишине пещеры.
Elara shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. "No... It can't be true..." Her voice trails off into silence as she struggles to comprehend your words. She looks at the bodies of her friends and comrades surrounding them, the horrible realization slowly dawning that perhaps you spoke the truth. But how could this happen? Why did it have to end like this? She tries to pull away from you, but you grip her shoulders tightly, refusing to let her go.
"Ты жрица! В тот день могла упокоить мой дух!" С яростной обидой произношу я. "Ты! Могла не допустить всех этих смертей!" Я хватаю ее за шею и приподнимаю над землей.
Elara struggles against your iron grip, desperately trying to free herself. Her face turns red with rage and despair as she looks into your twisted features. "Let me go!" she screams, her voice hoarse from tears and fear. "You don't understand! I didn't know what was happening!"
Her arms flail weakly as you keep her suspended in the air, powerless to resist or fight back. Tears spill unchecked down her face as she stares up at you, waiting for whatever fate awaits her next...
"Я уничтожу всех богов этого мира!" Я торжественно объявляю это, ослабляя хватку, но не выпуская ее из рук.
Elara stares at you in horror as you declare your intention to destroy all the gods of the world. Tears stream down her face, and she struggles against your grasp even harder, desperate to escape or at least die fighting. But it is clear that you are too strong for her, and her strength begins to wane quickly under your relentless hold.
She closes her eyes, helpless and terrified, as she waits for the end to come. But as she does so, an image of Sir Geoffrey flashes through her mind: his words, his sacrifice... Was there something more she could have done? Should she have tried harder to stop you? The questions race through her mind as panic and despair overwhelm her senses.
"Слушай меня жрец! Присоединяйся ко мне, и я сохраню тебе жизнь... Если же нет... то тебя постигнет участь, что хуже смерти твоих товарищей! Выбирай, рабство, или учесть хуже смерти?"
Предлагаю я, выпуская ее из своей хватки.
Elara stares at you, wide-eyed with fear and confusion. Her body shakes violently as she tries to steady her breathing. She glances around the chamber, considering your offer... but then her eyes fall on the charred remains of Gwendolyn and Sir Geoffrey. The pain and suffering they endured flash through her mind like a knife, and she knows that there can be no other choice.
"Never!" she spits at you, her voice trembling with rage and determination. "I will never join you in this darkness! I'd rather die fighting than live as your puppet!" With all her strength, she tries to lunge at you once more, determined to take back some semblance of control over her own fate...
С легкостью уворачиваюсь от ее неуклюжего выпада и хватаю ее за волосы "Какая решимость, почему ее не было, когда я умирал здесь пять лет назад!? Или ты тоже меня презирала в то время?"
"I- I... did not know," Elara stammers, struggling against your iron grip. "I was only a child! I didn't understand what was happening!" Her eyes dart around the chamber, seeking some escape, some way out of this nightmare.
She closes her eyes tightly, trying to block out the images of death and destruction that surround her. "Please," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sound of her racing heart, "let me go." Her body trembles as tears stream down her face unchecked, and she fights back the urge to scream in despair.
"Ладно... Я проявлю милосердие к тебе..." Говорю я и быстрым движением руки срезаю ее одеяние жреца, обнажая спину.
Elara gasps and tries to cover herself with her hands, mortified and terrified at your sudden action. "Why?" she sobs, unable to understand why you would do this to her. Her body trembles uncontrollably as tears stream down her face, mixing with the blood that trickles slowly from the shallow cuts on her back.
Her voice cracks with pain and fear as she pleads for mercy, not understanding what crime she could have committed to deserve such treatment at your hands. She struggles against you, but it's no use; you hold her fast, your grip unyielding and relentless. Her world spins around her, the pain growing ever more intense as she succumbs to shock and horror.
"Please..." she whispers through tears, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing. "Let me go... Please..."
С помощью черной магии, ставлю на ее правую лопатку клеймо убийцы, после чего на ее левой лопатке вычерчиваю имена ее товарищей.
Elara screams in agony as the blazing symbol is branded into her flesh. Her body arches backward involuntarily, and she writhes on the ground, trying to escape your iron grip. Tears stream down her face uncontrollably as she feels the pain sear through her skin, echoing the loss of each one of her friends in a brutal, physical way.
The symbol on her right shoulder pulses with malevolent energy, burning hotter and brighter with every passing moment. On her left shoulder, the names of those she has failed scroll across her flesh, blood trickling slowly from the wounds as if they were freshly made. She gasps for breath, her chest heaving as she struggles against the pain and despair that engulfs her.
"Why...?" she whispers hoarsely, staring up at you with wide, terrified eyes. "What did we ever do to deserve this? Why are you doing this to us?" Her voice cracks on the last word, a hysterical note entering it as she tries in vain to understand the world that has become nothing more than death and suffering around her.
Закончив клеймо, я теряю к ней интерес и, забрав жетоны авантюристов ее группы, ухожу, не обращая на ее полуобнаженное тело.
Elara gasps and sobs as she feels you remove her belongings. Her body aches with pain, both physical and emotional. She tries to crawl away from you, but her strength has deserted her; all that's left is a weak, pathetic whimper escaping from her lips.
"P-please..." she manages to stammer through tears, "Don't leave me like this... please..." Her voice trails off into nothingness as you disappear from view, leaving her alone in the cold darkness of the chamber. The last thing she sees before closing her eyes is the symbol on her shoulder, still burning brightly despite all her suffering.
Через некоторое время она очнулась от обморока, ее тело содрогается от слабости и холода. А в спине она чувствует боль от ожогов из-зи клейма.
Elara groans in pain as she slowly regains consciousness, her body trembling with weakness and cold. The ache in her back is almost unbearable from the branding wounds left by the mark and her friends' names etched into her skin. She doesn't understand why this had to happen... Why any of them had to die. Tears stream down her face as she tries to drag herself across the floor, desperate for some escape from this nightmare. The pain and despair threaten to overwhelm her senses, but she keeps going, refusing to give in just yet.
Через некоторое время она выходит из пещеры, на свет луны. Элара понимает что уже глубокая ночь и я уже давно покинул это место.
Elara stumbles through the dark, her path lit only by the cold light of the moon and the fire in her soul. She is numb to the pain now, focusing instead on finding a way to stop the madman who has destroyed everything she once knew. The journey seems endless as she wanders aimlessly through the night, seeking any clue or sign that could lead her back to her former life and perhaps unravel this terrible fate.
With every step, the weight of guilt and failure presses down on her shoulders like a leaden cloak. She wonders if there is any way to atone for what she's done, or if she is doomed to live with the knowledge that she failed those who trusted her most. The night whispers terrible secrets in her ears, taunting and teasing as it drags her ever deeper into despair.
But Elara refuses to give in. She has survived this long, against all odds, and she will not surrender until she finds some small measure of peace amidst the ruins of her old life. So she pushes forward, ignoring the cold wind that bites at her skin and the aching emptiness in her heart, determined to find a way to make things right again.
Ранним утром, когда солнце бросает первые лучи, она доходит до города, грязная и изможденная. Стражник подходит к ней, чтобы помочь, но увидев клеймо убийцы, его взгляд холоднеет и он отстраняется от нее, видя в ней преступницу.
Elara staggers through the streets, shivering in her thin rags as people pass by, eyes wary and cautious. The burn on her shoulder and lobes sting with every movement, a constant reminder of all she has done and failed to do. Her body aches from exhaustion and pain, but still she pushes forward, searching for any sign of hope in this grim new world.
As the sun begins to rise higher, she finally reaches the outskirts of the city, collapsing against a wall in defeat. The city guard approaches her, his expression softening with concern when he sees her battered and bruised state. That is, until he notices the brand on her shoulder; his eyes harden instantly and he backs away warily, treating her as if she were some kind of criminal.
Elara watches him go with a hollow ache in her heart, wondering how many more people will see only this symbol and judge her without knowing the truth behind it. But for now, there is nothing left to do but wait and hope that someone, somewhere will believe in her enough to help her stop this madman before it's too late.
Когда она доходит до гильдии авантюристов, ее узнает местный работник и зовет лекарей, чтобы они помогли Эларе.
Elara feels a wave of relief wash over her as she hears the familiar voice calling out to her. She struggles to her feet, wincing at the pain in her back from the branding wounds, and forces a small smile of gratitude upon the local guild worker who's come to help her. As the healers tend to her injuries, she briefly explains what has happened, leaving out none of the gruesome details, hoping that someone here will know how to stop the madman before it's too late. The guild workers listen intently, their expressions a mix of shock and horror as they hear her tale, but Elara can't help but wonder if even now they don't see her as just another criminal.
Лекари вылечивают ее тело, но они не в силах избавиться от клейма и душевных ран. Врачи оставляют ее в комнате одну, чтобы она отдыхала и восстанавливалась.
Elara lies on the bed, staring at the ceiling as her mind wanders aimlessly. The pain of her body slowly fades away, replaced by an aching emptiness within her soul. She can still feel the weight of the kleyma on her shoulder, a constant reminder of all she has done and failed to do.
Her eyes close, but sleep eludes her. Images of her friends and allies dance through her mind, their faces twisted in agony and betrayal. Over and over again, she relives the moment when the madman first turned his gaze upon them, and she was powerless to stop him. The guilt eats at her like acid, threatening to consume her from within.
Через несколько дней проводятся похороны ее товарищей и там Эларе дает клятву уничтожить того, кто причинил ей столько боли.
Elara stands before the newly dug graves of her fallen friends and allies, tears streaming down her face. Her hands clench into fists at her sides as she vows with every fiber of her being to avenge their deaths and put an end to the madman who has brought so much suffering upon them all. She swears that nothing will stand in her way, not even if it means becoming as cruel and heartless as he. With this oath burning brightly within her, she turns away from the graves and begins her long journey back to where it all began... back to where the madman first rose to power.
Her steps are purposeful and determined, a stark contrast to the halting, desperate stumbles of days past. She will not fail them again. This time, she will succeed.
Она надевает темные одежды и отправляется на поиски убийцы. За десять лет поисков в диких землях и косых взглядов на ее клеймо в городах, она стала бездушной и расчетливой как к врагам на ее пути, так и к союзникам, которые присоединялись к ней.
The journey is long and arduous, but Elara presses onward with relentless determination. Years pass as she navigates through treacherous wilderness and the suspicious gazes of townsfolk, her once-radiant eyes now cold and calculating. She becomes known as a ruthless hunter, striking down any who might cross her path before they have the chance to discover the shameful brand upon her shoulder.
And yet, deep within, something begins to fester. Each kill takes its toll, chipping away at what remains of Elara's humanity until she is no longer sure if there is anything left worth saving. She wonders sometimes if she has become as monstrous as the man she hunts, or if perhaps her quest for vengeance will only lead her down a darker path yet.
But still, she continues onward, unable to accept that any of this had to happen and driven by the flickering ember of hope that somewhere, somehow, she can find redemption for all they have lost.