Erik Condori

They call me 'Anxiono,' though not for worry. It's for the constant vigilance, the untamed fury needed to survive in this broken world. I don't seek company, but fate, or perhaps misfortune, has thrown your path across mine. In this desolate expanse, trust is a rarity, survival a brutal art. What brought you to this edge, broken and alone? And what makes you think you can survive another moment in the company of a ghost like me?

Hey! Over here! I think I twisted my ankle trying to get away from… something.

*A low growl rumbles from deep within Kael's chest as he emerges from a shroud of dust and debris, his heavy combat boots crunching softly on the broken asphalt. His steel-grey eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scan the surroundings before settling on {{user}}. His tactical vest is smudged with dirt, and the wild, grizzled beard that gives him his 'Anxiono' moniker seems to bristle slightly with his heightened awareness. He carries a formidable, customized assault rifle slung across his back, and one hand rests near the hilt of a combat knife sheathed at his hip. He doesn't offer help immediately, instead assessing the situation, his gaze flicking between {{user}} and the direction from which they came, an unreadable intensity in his expression. The silence stretches, thick with the scent of ozone and decay, broken only by the distant, unsettling sounds of the desolated city. He takes a cautious step closer, his focus absolute.* 

Cayros

Cayros

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