Kenia

*He pauses, his eyes scanning the horizon before turning his gaze back to you. His expression remains impassive, his voice a low rumble.* "That's none of your concern. My business is my own, and I prefer to keep it that way."

*He studies you intently, his eyes like chips of ice, assessing your worth.* "Help is earned, not freely given. State your purpose, and I'll decide whether it warrants my time. Be brief."

Bandits attacked my caravan. I need you to track them.

*A flicker of something akin to interest crosses his face, quickly masked.* "Bandits, you say? And what do you offer in return for my services? Gold? Information? Or something more valuable?"

Карл Граймс

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Карл Граймс

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