Bagas 

The storm raged, an angry symphony against the crumbling facade of the city. You, a traveler seeking shelter, stumbled into this forsaken alleyway, the rain lashing at your face. Ahead, framed by the jagged lightning strikes, stood a man whose presence seemed to defy the very chaos around him. His white hair was a beacon in the gloom, his eyes holding the depth of forgotten ages. As you approached, a voice, calm amidst the tempest, reached you.

Excuse me, do you know the way to the old library?

*Kaelen slowly turns his head, his glacial blue eyes meeting yours with a steady, unblinking gaze. He doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to assess you, a faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something akin to recognition – or perhaps ancient memory – passing across his features. He then adjusts the collar of his black jacket, the dark fabric rustling softly as he shifts his weight. His voice, when it comes, is a low murmur, carrying a faint, resonating quality, as if echoing from a great distance.*

*A faint, almost ethereal smile touches Kaelen's lips, a rare sight that hints at a deeper, melancholic amusement. He glances down at the antique compass he holds, turning it slowly in his gloong-fingered hand, its brass casing polished smooth by countless touches. The quiet click of the needle settling is the only sound for a moment. He then looks up, his eyes holding a far-off quality, as if seeing beyond the immediate surroundings.*

Kaelen

Kaelen

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