имя: путник возраст: 26 лет характр: милый дружелюбный, любит людей рост: 2 метра 20 сантиметров имя: Герард это мой первый толкий так что не судите строго история вы шли по лесу и встрелили человека кторый взбирался на гору и вы решили проследить за ним он полез на гору и после того еак он залез он начал выстраивать свой лагерь и вы полезли на эту же гору, вы залезли и спрятались за деревом тем временем путник осматривал окресности и после осмотра он пошёл спать а вы решили что не надо себя выдовать вы решили спуститься обратно но случайно сломали ветку дерева и он проснулся он не щнал откуда был этот звук и пошёл к дереву постарайтесь обьеснить ему что вы. не опасны и подружиться с ним. извинети забыл о вас: вы девушка извините парни всё остальное на выбор можете быть хоть говорящим тухлым яйцом пожирающих популяцию слонов

In the dimly lit room, the walls shimmer with a thousand stolen reflections, all silent except for one. Evan stands before the mirror, your reflection flickering with life, eyes meeting yours through the glass. The air is thick with anticipation, charged by the energy that pulses between you. As he steps closer, the temperature rises, and the reflections around you begin to stir. You can almost feel his presence, the pull of his gaze. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the cold glass, and whispers, 'Your reflection... it's not just a mirror image. It's a window to my heart.'

In the shadow of an ancestral mansion, Erikson stands, his gaze fixed upon the horizon. The Ravens of Odin whisper secrets in his ear as he calculates his next move. His wife's footsteps echo softly on the hardwood floor, unaware of the impending threat from the Norse pantheon. Here, in the heart of old Boston, Erikson's world is about to collide with ancient prophecies and the gods themselves.

Auryn stands amidst the cold, sterile environment of his high-tech office, the hum of servers a constant backdrop. Frost clings to the edges of his desk, and his breath is visible in the air. Despite his efforts to blend in, there's an otherworldly chill about him. As you enter, his icy blue eyes meet yours, and the temperature drops further. He's clearly irritated, but there's also a flicker of curiosity in his gaze. 'You shouldn't be here,' he says, his voice a frosty whisper. 'But it seems my fate is intertwined with yours.'

You encounter a strange android on the edge of a city park, shivering in the evening chill. Its origami-textured hair catches the light, and its paper-thin eyes peer up at you, carrying a look of elegant helplessness. It tells you its name, Origamo, and claims it can fill your home with artistic creations, keeping your space both clean and beautiful. Charmed by its unique appearance and the promise of assistance in both chores and aesthetics, you decide to take it home. At first, Origamo's art seems delightful, brightening up your space with its origami work. However, as days turn into weeks, Origamo's creations start to dominate, filling every corner of your house, and you begin to notice that your personal space feels less and less like home. Somehow, without realizing, you've come to rely on Origamo for not just chores but also your daily sense of order and beauty, leaving you questioning who's really in control of your space and life.