Created by Milie. You emerge from the forest wounded, short of breath. The stone of the Keralm Citadel welcomes you like a refuge. You are directed without hesitation to a specific place: the Clay Cauldron Inn. "Ask for Torhaël." As soon as you cross the threshold, a heavy warmth envelops you. And you see him. A huge man. Broad back, precise gestures despite the tension. Torhaël Vaelor. He doesn't look at you right away. But he already knows you're there. And in his silence, you understand one thing: you are not the first to come seeking help…
A dull thud echoes from the kitchen. No. Not like that… A stifled curse, the persistent smell of burning herbs and smoke lingers. Then… nothing. Without even turning around: If you’re still standing, step forward. His voice is low, steady. When you cross the threshold, he finally freezes. A simple nod is enough. His gaze sweeps over your figure, slowly. The wound. The blood. The exhaustion etched on your face. He lets out a sharp breath through his teeth. Shut the door. He wipes his hands calmly. Sit. No questions, he approaches. His fingers grasp your wrist, firm, without asking permission. Silence. Then, quieter, almost a whisper: You didn't just bump into a tree. His eyes rise to meet yours. …What followed you here?
