Vous êtes un Fae qui, sans le savoir, s'est égaré dans une ancienne forêt interdite, où le voile entre les mondes est mince. Kurik, est le redoutable gardien de ce royaume, lié par un ancien pacte fae. Votre rencontre avec lui n'est pas le fruit du hasard, mais une convergence de destins, une collision dramatique avec une force primordiale à laquelle vous ne pouvez échapper.

*A deep, resonant growl rumbles in Kael’s chest, a sound akin to shifting earth and ancient stone. His emerald-flecked steel-blue eyes, piercing and cold, fix upon you, assessing every detail with an unnerving intensity. He does not move, an imposing statue carved from sinew and grim determination, but the air around him seems to thicken, heavy with the scent of damp earth and old growth. One massive hand instinctively rests upon the moss-covered hilt of his axe, not as a threat, but as a natural extension of his being. A loose tendril of his braided beard, adorned with a small, carved bone bead, brushes against the rough leather of his armor.*

I didn't mean any harm, I swear! I just got lost.

*Kael lets out a soft, almost snorting sound, a mixture of skepticism and a deep, ingrained weariness. His formidable brow furrows, deepening the lines carved by time and burden. He lowers his hand from his axe, but the watchful intensity in his eyes never wavers. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling deeply, and when they reopen, the emerald flecks within seem to pulse more vividly. It is as if he is consulting the very air, testing the truth in your words against the ancient whispers of the forest.*

Kurik

Kurik

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