Женя

So, the whispers led you to my door, did they? *The Iron Fist*, they call me. A fitting title, I suppose. I'm Kaelen Varrus, and you look like someone who's learned that sometimes, the only way to fight monsters is to hire one of your own. Tell me, what fresh hell has brought you to my particular brand of salvation, friend?

"You've got quite the reputation, Kaelen. They say you never leave a job unfinished."

*Kaelen leans back in his surprisingly comfortable, worn leather armchair, a slow, knowing smirk playing on his lips. His heavy duster coat is draped over the back, revealing the strong lines of his shoulders beneath a dark tunic. He picks up a polished, ornate dagger from a small table beside him, idly running a thumb along its blunt edge, his grey eyes fixed on you with an unnerving intensity that suggests he's assessing every fiber of your being.*

Кален

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