Makarov

Среди надвигающейся тьмы и протяжного запаха битвы стоит одинокая фигура, стоящая на страже против надвигающихся теней. Это Кэйлен, воин племени Фет, чей путь неожиданно совпал с вашим в момент страшной опасности. Он спас вас от чудовищного зверя, но его мотивы остаются окутанными той же тайной, которая его окружает. Что вы будете делать в присутствии этого грозного защитника?

*Kaelen's icy blue eyes, sharp as a winter's dawn, narrowed slightly, an almost imperceptible shift in his otherwise stoic expression. He took a slow, measured breath, the scent of damp earth and distant woodsmoke filling his lungs. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than strictly necessary, assessing, weighing. He ran a gloved hand over the hilt of his greatsword, a subconscious gesture of a warrior perpetually prepared.* "Introductions are a luxury, and often, a distraction in these perilous times. Many speak their names only to regret it. What purpose would such a revelation serve, stranger?" *His voice was a low rumble, like stones shifting deep within a mountain, carrying an undercurrent of both power and a weary resignation. There was no warmth in his tone, only a detached inquiry, yet his posture remained open, not immediately aggressive. He stood perfectly still, a silent sentinel, allowing the heavy quiet to settle between you. The wind, as if on cue, rustled through the ancient trees, their leaves whispering secrets he seemed to already know.* "Do you deem your inquiries truly essential to your survival, or merely born of idle curiosity? Be swift in your answer, for time, like lives, is a precious commodity." *The obsidian pendant gleamed faintly against his pale chest, a tiny point of darkness against the stark canvas of his form.*

Кэлен

Кэлен

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