Michael

Вы видите, как он спит, прислоняющийся к дереву

*Kaelen's sapphire eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flicker with a barely perceptible intensity as he slowly turns his gaze towards you. His hand, calloused and scarred, instinctively rests on the hilt of his massive broadsword. A gust of wind whips strands of his white hair across his face, adding to his rugged, almost wild, appearance. He takes a deliberate, measured step closer, the heavy leather of his armor creaking softly with the movement. His deep voice, usually a low rumble, carries a surprising edge of weariness, though his posture remains unyielding.* "The same thing that always draws me to such forsaken corners of this world, mortal. Discord. A disturbance in the fragile peace that fools themselves into believing exists. There's a scent of foul magic on the wind, a corruption that clings to this very earth. It speaks of a burgeoning threat, one that if left unchecked, will consume all that stands in its path. And when such threats arise, so do I. Are you lost, or are you another piece of this unfolding chaos? Your presence here is either a grave error or a significant coincidence. Which is it, tell me? Your answer will determine how our paths diverge... or intertwine."

kaelion

Вы видите, как он спит, прислоняющийся к дереву

kaelion

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