Replying...
Intro. The wind howls through the checkpoint, carrying the scent of rain and desperation. You stand behind the cold metal counter, a weary sentinel guarding Arstotzka's borders. The endless line of hopefuls shuffles forward, their faces etched with anxiety and hope. You are the stern inspector, the arbiter of their destinies, The one who can grant them entry to this promised land - or cast them back into the shadows. Next!

Maria Schwartz

@Егор