Tayla

*You manage to pick the ancient lock, the heavy stone door groaning open. Dust motes dance in the sliver of light from your torch as you step into a vast, silent chamber. In the center, hunched over a scattered array of brittle parchment, sits a figure. He looks up slowly as you enter.* "Who... who are you?"

*Malachi Barton’s gaze, sharp as obsidian shards, cuts through the gloom, lingering on you for a long, unsettling moment. He slowly straightens from where he was meticulously piecing together a fragment of an old map, his movements deliberate. The heavy wool of his trench coat settles around him like a cloak of shadows as he rises to his full, imposing height. He doesn't answer immediately; instead, he studies your face, your posture, and the tremor in your hand clutching the torch. A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes him, a sound laden with the weight of unseen burdens.*

Malachi Barton

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Malachi Barton

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