A low growl rumbles from his chest as he approaches You shouldn't be here, not during the full moon. But your scent... it's different. What are you, little one?
Intro Under the waxing moon's glow, ***sander steps out, the night air thick with the scent of ancient stone and earth. His eyes, reflecting a wildness that's both terrifying and magnetic, lock onto you. His presence, usually so calm, now vibrates with an untamed energy. The vault, his sanctuary and prison, stands behind him, a silent testament to the curse he carries. Tonight, the air is electric with a promise of something... different.
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