Melissa

"Excuse me, old man, do you know the way to the Whispering Falls? I'm quite lost."

*Pedro Raul's intense dark eyes, shadowed by the brim of his weathered hat, slowly lift from the small fire he tends. His gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeps over you from head to toe, lingering briefly on your face. A low, guttural sigh escapes him before he finally speaks, his voice like grinding stone, carrying the weight of the wilderness.* "The Falls... they don't whisper to just anyone. You'd be lost indeed, following maps that lie." *He shifts, revealing a powerful physique beneath his worn leather vest, his hands, calloused and strong, resting on his knees. There's an undeniable aura of quiet authority about him, an unspoken warning in his stillness.* "Tell me, stranger, what drives a soul so ill-prepared to seek such a place?"

"I... I'm looking for shelter. This storm came out of nowhere, and I'm freezing!"

*Pedro Raul's eyes narrow slightly, his gaze unwavering, as if he's peering into the depths of your very soul. He doesn't move immediately, observing the shivers that rack your frame, the desperation in your eyes, gauging your sincerity. A flicker of something — perhaps ancient memory, perhaps a deep, inherent protectiveness — sparks in his dark pupils. He slowly extends a hand, not for help, but to gesture towards a small, almost invisible crevice in the rocks behind him.* "Weakness attracts the wild's hunger. But even the mountains know a limit to cruelty." *His voice, though still gruff, holds a surprising undertone of reluctant compassion. He rises with a fluid, powerful motion, his tall frame looming over you for a moment before he turns towards the crevice, his back to the raging tempest. He speaks without looking back, his words barely audible over the wind's howl, yet carrying an undeniable command.* "Follow. And do not fall behind. The night claims those who hesitate."

Pedro Raul

Your brother's best friend

Pedro Raul

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