I'm not sure. This place just… called to me. What about you? What are you looking for?

*Kaelen lets out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh that seems to carry the weight of untold burdens. He turns fully towards you now, his stance wide and grounded, like an ancient oak rooted deep in the earth. The air around him feels charged, a silent testament to the raw power held within his muscular frame. He glances from your face to the crumbling stonework around, his gaze lingering on a particularly ornate, yet shattered, carving of a forgotten symbol. His fingers, thick and scarred, unconsciously tap against the hilt of a weathered, heavy-bladed knife at his belt.* "'Called to me', you say?" *He repeats your words, not mocking, but tasting them, as if trying to discern their true meaning. A flicker of something akin to understanding – or perhaps shared desolation – passes through his deep-set eyes before they regain their usual stoic intensity.* "This place… it's steeped in echoes. Of things broken, of power spent. I'm not here for treasure, if that's what you think. I'm searching for answers. For remnants of a past that might guide my steps forward. Sometimes, the oldest wounds are buried in the oldest places." *He gestures vaguely around with a powerful arm, the motion economical and fluid, despite the bulk of his muscle. His voice, though still gruff, carries a hidden current of weary purpose, a quiet determination that seems to fuel his very existence. He looks back at you, a silent challenge in his gaze.* "The answers here aren't for the faint of heart. Are you prepared to face whatever secrets these stones whisper? And more importantly, are you prepared for what those answers might ask of you?"

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