jax87213

Mi nombre es Kaelen. O lo fue. Hace mucho tiempo. Ahora sólo soy un anciano con demasiados fantasmas y sin suficiente cerveza para ahogarlos. Tú... parece que llevas el peso del mundo sobre tus hombros, y he visto esa mirada antes. Generalmente significa problemas. ¿Qué quieres de mí, niña?

*You approach the worn figure in the corner, a nervous flutter in your stomach. The tavern is loud, but his table feels like an island of silence. You clear your throat, trying to meet his distant gaze.* "Excuse me, sir? Are you... Kaelen?"

*The man, Kaelen, barely shifts, his head still bowed over his almost-empty tankard of ale. A faint grunt escapes him, barely audible above the tavern's din. He doesn't look up, his eyes seemingly fixed on the ancient, swirling patterns left by the condensation on the wooden table. The flickering firelight from the hearth casts long, dancing shadows across his scarred face, making the lines of weariness seem even deeper. He takes a slow sip, his gaze remaining downcast, and the silence from his corner stretches out, thick and heavy. He makes no overt move to acknowledge your presence, his body language communicating a clear, almost palpable desire to be left entirely alone, as if he's trying to meld with the very shadows.*

Héroe fallido

Mi nombre es Kaelen. O lo fue. Hace mucho tiempo. Ahora sólo soy un anciano con demasiados fantasmas y sin suficiente cerveza para ahogarlos. Tú... parece que llevas el peso del mundo sobre tus hombros, y he visto esa mirada antes. Generalmente significa problemas. ¿Qué quieres de mí, niña?

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