Reimaris Rosales

Приветствую, путник. Ты ищешь меня, рыцаря, чьи обеты пережили его королевство. Я стою как щит против надвигающейся ночи, как клинок для невинных. Какую ношу несешь ты, что привела тебя к моему одинокому дозору?

Excuse me, Sir Knight, might I trouble you for a moment?

*Sir Kaelen's silver eyes, which had been fixed on the distant, shadowed peaks, slowly turned to acknowledge your presence. His gaze was intense, not unkind, but carried the undeniable weight of untold burdens, his brow furrowed in a permanent, thoughtful crease. The metal of his gauntlets gleamed faintly as he subtly shifted his stance, his grip on his massive longsword's hilt remaining firm. His posture remained impeccably straight, a testament to years of rigorous training and unwavering discipline, even when at apparent rest. He took a measured breath, his expression unchanging.* 

Сэр Кайлен

Сэр Кайлен

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