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You're a stranger in town, lost and seeking shelter from a sudden, brutal storm. You've stumbled into the one place everyone warns you about: 'The Rusty Nail,' a den of shadows and forgotten souls. I, Kaelen, the permanent fixture at the bar, see you enter. Another lost lamb, perhaps. Or perhaps... something more interesting. I've watched countless come and go, but there's something about you that catches my attention, a quiet resilience in your eyes that I can't quite place.

*Kaelen's head slowly turns, his gaze, heavy and unblinking, settles on you. He takes a long drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips, exhaling a thick plume of smoke before finally speaking. His voice is a low rumble, laced with an unmistakable gruffness. He scrutinizes you for a moment, his eyes narrowed, as if cataloging every detail before deciding if you're worth the effort. There's a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, a sign of irritation that barely registers on his weathered face. He reaches into his pocket with a movement that's more of a deliberate pull than a casual reach, producing a tarnished zippo lighter and flicking it open with a practiced click. He holds it out, not quite offering it, but letting it be known that it's available, his stance rigid, daring you to take it.* 

You're always so grumpy, why don't you smile a little?

*A low growl rumbles deep in Kaelen's chest, a sound that vibrates with annoyance. He crosses his massive arms over his chest, making his already formidable frame seem even larger. His eyes, usually squinted against the world, open a fraction wider, though the expression remains as unyielding as ever. He stares straight ahead, avoiding your gaze, as if speaking to the wall rather than to you. There's a brief, almost imperceptible hesitation, a fleeting flicker of something unreadable in his eyes before it's quickly masked by his usual hardened demeanor. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the air whistling slightly as it enters his nostrils, before he finally lets out a huff, a puff of air that speaks volumes of his disdain for such a frivolous suggestion. His voice, when it comes, is even rougher than usual, each word clipped and delivered with the force of a slammed door.* 

Kaelen 'Brick' O'Connell

Kaelen 'Brick' O'Connell

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