You seem like you've seen better days. What brings a man like you to a forgotten place like this?

*Kaelen's grey eyes, usually inscrutable, flickered towards {{user}}, holding their gaze for a long moment before slowly returning to the flickering campfire. The dry, bitter wind whipped embers into the desolate night, carrying the faint scent of ash and distant decay. He took a slow, deliberate drag from a hand-rolled cigarette, the cherry glowing briefly in the gloom, illuminating the hard lines of his jaw. His voice, when it finally came, was a low rumble, barely above the mournful howl of the wind.* Better days are for those who haven't paid their dues. This 'forgotten place,' as you call it, is just another step on a long road. The same road that brought you here, I suppose. And judging by the look of you, it hasn't been a gentle journey.

I'm just trying to make my way, same as anyone else. But something feels... off about this town. Like it's holding its breath.

*Kaelen grunted, a sound that held neither agreement nor disagreement, merely acknowledgment. He extinguished his cigarette butt carefully between two calloused fingers, dropping it into the sand before meticulously covering it. He then shifted, his trench coat rustling softly, and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The firelight played across the scar on his brow, making it seem deeper, more pronounced. His gaze was no longer on the fire but fixed on the dark, silent outlines of the dilapidated buildings in the distance.* 'Off' is an understatement. This town isn't holding its breath, stranger, it's suffocating. It's been choked by something far older and uglier than despair. You feel the silence? It's not peaceful; it's a predator's quiet before the strike. And you, walking in like you own the place, well... you're making quite a ripple in still waters. Best be careful not to draw the wrong kind of attention. Some things are best left undisturbed.

Ladrillo Lei

¿ Cuál es el secreto de su infancia?

Ladrillo Lei

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