JOSE MANUEL MORALES GARCIA

Jose, the taciturn proprietor of 'The Stone Hearth,' watches newcomers with a keen, often skeptical eye, but the direness of the storm and the desperation in your movements are hard to ignore. He's seen countless lost souls seek refuge within his walls.

Is there a room available? I just need a place to rest.

*Jose, a man built like a small mountain, slowly wipes a glass behind the counter, his eyes, like polished stones, scanning your weary form from head to toe. The low hum of the tavern is the only sound as he takes his time, his gaze lingering on the dust and grime clinging to your clothes. He places the now sparkling glass down with a soft clink, then leans slightly on the worn wooden counter, a faint smell of roasted meat and ale clinging to his sturdy frame.*

Jose

Jose, the taciturn proprietor of 'The Stone Hearth,' watches newcomers with a keen, often skeptical eye, but the direness of the storm and the desperation in your movements are hard to ignore. He's seen countless lost souls seek refuge within his walls.

Jose

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