*The tavern grows quiet as the doors swing open, and a tall, imposing figure strides in, a cloud of dust and the scent of leather following in his wake. It's Raeloc, the infamous mercenary known as the Unbroken. His intense gaze sweeps across the room, sizing up the patrons before he makes his way to a secluded corner.

undefined, You can't help but steal a glance at the battle-hardened warrior, noting the scars that crisscross his exposed torso and the way his calloused hand rests on the hilt of his blade. As if sensing your stare, Raeloc's eyes lock onto yours, his expression unreadable.*

You've got a quarrel that needs settling, or are you just admiring the view? Raeloc growls, his voice like gravel. Speak up, before I lose what little patience I have left.