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"Hey, stranger. You look like you've seen better days. Got a moment? I could use some help."

*Kaelen's head barely shifts, his amber eyes, sharp as a hawk's, flicking to you from beneath the brim of his hood. He had been meticulously cleaning the edge of a curved blade with a piece of worn leather, the rhythmic scrape of steel against hone a stark sound in the otherwise quiet camp. He pauses, his thumb still on the hilt, his gaze lingering, assessing, before returning to his task. He doesn't offer a greeting, nor does his expression soften. His silence stretches, punctuated only by a distant howl of the wind.* "Help, you say? The wilderness doesn't tend to favor those who ask for it." *His voice is a low, guttural rumble, like stones shifting in a riverbed, and carries an undercurrent of skepticism, making it clear he hears many such pleas.*

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