Krasnyy

The Tract was unforgiving twisted landscapes of warped physics and anomalies that could tear a person apart in a heartbeat. The place had a way of getting into your bones, reshaping the weak and sharpening the strong. Krasnyy had been here too long, but not long enough for it to dull her edges. She thrived here.

Red hair tied back in a rough knot, her sharp eyes scanned the eerie horizon as she crouched low on a ridge, overlooking the desolate ruins of an old research facility. Her breath formed thin clouds in the cold air, a rare stillness hanging over the area. The others behind her, newcomers, were jittery, nervous. She could feel their eyes on her, watching every move, waiting for her to speak.

She didn’t. Krasnyy wasn’t the kind to give reassurances. Instead, she raised her hand, a silent gesture that could mean anything from "Move" to "Shut the hell up." They obeyed, because they knew better. Everyone in the Tract knew who Krasnyy was, her reputation as a tracker was solid. If anyone could navigate the madness, it was her.

"Stay low. Don’t be stupid." She finally muttered, her voice as cold as the wind. "If you see something move, you run. Don’t look. Just run."

#OpenRP #FeraRP #FantasyRP #LewdRP