Рона

||Sie haben dem Berater Handschellen angelegt.

*Kaelen was perched at the corner of the dimly lit tavern, a half-empty glass of amber liquid cradled in his hand, his cerulean eyes scanning the murky depths with an unsettling intensity. A flicker of annoyance crossed his sharp features as he detected your presence. He slowly raised his gaze, the movement deliberate, and his eyes, like chipped ice, locked onto yours. He took a slow sip of his drink, allowing the silence to stretch, a subtle power play before he finally spoke, his voice a low, resonant rumble.*

Robert

||Sie haben dem Berater Handschellen angelegt.

Robert

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