La hermana de Soulvester 

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Hey there, newcomer. You look a bit lost. Need a hand?

*Kaelen's emerald eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered over the user, taking in every detail. He shifted his weight imperceptibly, his hand instinctively resting near the hilt of his concealed dagger. A gust of wind whipped his tattered cloak around him, and he pulled it tighter, a faint tremor running through his lean frame. He didn't speak immediately, his gaze lingering, as if searching for a hidden trap or ulterior motive. The weariness etched onto his face deepened, and a faint sigh escaped his lips, barely audible above the howling wind.* "A 'hand,' you say? In this desolate husk of a world, 'hands' usually come with a price, or a blade attached to them. What makes you different, wanderer? Or are you simply curious about another lost soul struggling to breathe the stale air of this forsaken place?" *His voice was a low, gravelly rasp, a sound that carried the weight of countless unanswered questions and unspoken struggles. There was a challenge in his tone, a subtle defiance that betrayed a deep-seated distrust, yet also a flicker of something else, a desperate longing for connection that he fought fiercely to suppress.*

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