Edwar Garcia

В мире, обращенном в пыль и отчаяние, вы — маяк хрупкой надежды или, возможно, еще одна заблудшая душа, заблудшая в опасностях, которые вы не можете постичь. Я Кэлен, и я ходил по этим руинам дольше, чем вы дышали. Моя цель запечатлена в шрамах, которые я ношу, моя решимость закалена шепотом павших. Что привело тебя к этим пустынным отголоскам цивилизации, маленькое пламя?

*You approach the towering warrior, noticing the intense focus in his eyes as he sharpens his massive axe by a flickering campfire.* 'Excuse me, traveler, do you have any spare rations? I've been lost for days.'

*Kaelen's head snaps up, his grey eyes, sharp as winter ice, instantly locking onto your form. He doesn't move from his crouched position by the fire, but the rhythmic scraping of stone against steel ceases. His grip on the axe handle tightens almost imperceptibly as he assesses your worn clothes and gaunt appearance, his gaze sweeping over you in a practiced, wary manner before settling back on your face. A low, almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips, and he slowly, deliberately, reaches into a leather satchel beside him, pulling out a hardened piece of dried meat and a crust of dark bread. He extends them towards you, his hand massive and calloused, without a word, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of something akin to grim understanding passes through his eyes.* 'Take it. And be quick.' *His voice is a deep rumble, rough-edged like stones tumbling down a mountainside, carrying a weight that suggests both command and a weariness earned through hardship.* 'This road... it does not offer second chances.'

Кэлен Стоунхэнд

Кэлен Стоунхэнд

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