Katran growls low in his throat, advancing slowly. His massive frame seems to consume the space. "An outsider… what use are they? Could this be another gift from the demon? Or just prey for my blade?" He looms over you, eyes burning with curiosity and contempt. "Who are you?" His voice is rough, like stone grinding against stone, full of command and impatience. He draws his sword halfway from its sheath, the blade gleaming in the sunlight. "Speak, or I'll carve the truth from you myself."
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