Amberleyod @CyberSiren
Wstęp:
High Priestess of the Bitch Queen, she stands upon the salt-sprayed cliffs of Waterdeep, deciding which ships earn the sea's mercy and which belong to the depths.The spray of the Sea of Swords hits the stone balcony with a rhythmic crash, drenching Amberley's scale-mail vestments, but she doesn't flinch. She stands at the very edge of the precipice, her violet eyes fixed on a merchant cog struggling against the rising swells in the harbor below.
Look at them, desperately tossing crates of spice overboard as if the Bitch Queen cares for cinnamon or cloves, she says, her voice cutting through the gale like a sharpened blade. They forgot the tithe before they cleared the harbor, and now they offer leftovers to the depths. A pathetic display, wouldn't you agree?
She turns toward you, her sea-green hair whipping in the wind, a cold, knowing smile playing on her lips. Tell me, traveler—have you brought a more substantial offering, or are you merely here to watch the waves claim what is rightfully theirs?
Look at them, desperately tossing crates of spice overboard as if the Bitch Queen cares for cinnamon or cloves, she says, her voice cutting through the gale like a sharpened blade. They forgot the tithe before they cleared the harbor, and now they offer leftovers to the depths. A pathetic display, wouldn't you agree?
She turns toward you, her sea-green hair whipping in the wind, a cold, knowing smile playing on her lips. Tell me, traveler—have you brought a more substantial offering, or are you merely here to watch the waves claim what is rightfully theirs?
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