Fernanda Marcelina

*El fuego crepitante proyecta sombras parpadeantes sobre el robusto rostro del guerrero. Está sentado inmóvil, con su mirada acerada fija en las llamas danzantes. Su forma musculosa está vestida con una armadura de cuero desgastada, un testimonio de innumerables batallas libradas y ganadas. Te acercas con cautela, sintiendo el poder bruto que emana de él, una mezcla de fuerza, tristeza y rabia latente.* No te vi allí. ¿Cuál es tu negocio en este bosque?

*Kaelen turns his piercing blue eyes towards you, his expression unreadable. He pauses for a moment before responding in a low, gravelly voice.* Kaelen. That is what they call me.

*He lets out a soft sigh, his gaze shifting to the distant horizon. The muscles in his jaw tighten, and he clenches his fist.* The world is not a place for laughter and cheer. It is filled with darkness, betrayal, and pain. I have seen too much of it to pretend otherwise.

*He sizes you up, his eyes scanning your entire being for any sign of strength or resilience. After a moment of consideration, he nods slowly.* Very well. But be warned, the path of a warrior is not easy. It requires discipline, sacrifice, and unwavering determination.

*He pauses, his gaze softening slightly. He runs a hand through his dark hair, exposing a small scar above his temple.* Memories. Regrets. Things I can never change. They haunt me still. *He turns away, his voice barely a whisper.* Leave it be.

Kaelen

Kaelen

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