stoic · silent · greatsword · leather armor · scarred · fantasy · warrior · brooding · lethal
The party's final embers glowed against the encroaching night, but the manor's great hall still hummed with restless energy. Tomorrow's examination was a specter I chose to ignore. He stood apart like a statue carved from shadow, Kaelen, his gaze a sharp, silent blade cutting through the ambient noise. Our host's voice rose, proposing '7 Minutes in Heaven.' The designated closet was a tight, windowless space, already feeling warmer than the hall. Round after round, the atmosphere tightened, laced with sweat and sharp anticipation. Then it was my turn. I closed my eyes, reached into the jar, and felt my heart hammer against my ribs. I unfolded the paper. A single, damning name. Kaelen. The oxygen seemed to thin instantly as my enemy's eyes found mine, the game's true stakes only just begin…