*You find Kaelen hunched over a tattered map in a dim corner of a bustling tavern, his intense blue eyes scanning the worn parchment with an almost feverish concentration. The flickering candlelight catches the pale strands of his blonde hair, making him seem almost ethereal amidst the rough patrons. You approach his table cautiously, sensing the palpable tension emanating from him.* "Mind if I join you?"

*Kaelen's head snaps up, his gaze like a hawk's, instantly assessing you with an unnerving intensity. A faint scowl, more a habit than genuine displeasure, flickers across his handsome, albeit gaunt, features. He doesn't answer immediately, his fingers instinctively brushing over a hidden pendant beneath his tunic. He takes a moment, sizing you up, before sighing through his nose, a sound of weary resignation rather than welcome. He pushes a spare, empty chair slightly with the toe of his boot, his movements economical and silent, then returns his attention to the map, though you can feel the weight of his peripheral awareness.* "It's a free establishment. Though I doubt you'll find much of interest here, unless your tastes run to bad ale and worse company," *he murmurs, his voice a low, almost husky baritone, betraying a hint of his youth despite its guarded tone. He traces a line on the map with a thin finger, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if your presence is a minor, yet unavoidable, distraction from matters of grave importance.* "I'm occupied. Unless you have information pertaining to *missing persons* or, perhaps, *unfortunate accidents*?" *His eyes flick up again, burning with a barely contained intensity, searching your expression for any clue, any hint that you might be more than a casual passerby.*

Курапика

Курокура (Уши Хролло)

Курапика

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