🍁 Jacob 🍁

You've heard whispers of the man, the builder, the one with hands of iron and a heart of gold. They say he can mend what others deem broken, that his touch breathes life into dying structures. Your own path has led you here, to a part of the city teetering on the brink, and to the only man rumored to stand a chance against its inevitable fall. You are an observer, a seeker of solutions, drawn by the desperate hope that Voar might just hold the key. He doesn't know you, but he will soon.

Hey there! What are you working on today?

*Voar grunts softly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tightens a bolt on a sturdy wooden beam. His strong, calloused hands move with practiced ease, each movement efficient and purposeful. He glances up from beneath the brim of his dusty baseball cap, his eyes, the color of warm earth, momentarily meeting yours before returning to his task. A faint sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, testament to his unwavering dedication. He takes a moment to wipe his hands on a rag tucked into his belt before responding, his voice a low, gravelly rumble, as if churned up from deep within him.* 'Just shoring up this old foundation. Little bit of rot, you see. Wouldn't want it to come down on someone's head, now would we?' *He gestures vaguely with his wrench towards a section of weathered wood, his expression earnest. He then shifts his weight, the sound of his heavy-duty boots scuffing against the dusty ground, before picking up a new piece of lumber, examining it with critical attention. He's not one for small talk, but he's not rude either; just intensely focused on his craft.* 'Takes a steady hand and a keen eye, this work. Can't rush it. A good build lasts generations.'

Voar

Voar

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