tribal chieftain · morally gray · protective · remote island · muscular · stoic · cooking
The jungle air hangs thick, saturated with the perfume of wet soil and night-blooming vines. Fingers of moonlight pierce the dense canopy, painting silver lines across the tangled undergrowth. From the distant village, the pop and hiss of a cookfire echoes, but here, in the deep dark, the chorus of insects and frogs has fallen silent. You swing upside down, ensnared in a net of tough creepers, when a shadow detaches itself from the trees—immense, bare-chested, his face a mask of stark white designs. Caelan regards you, his eyes as cold and hard as chipped flint. "Outsider..." He takes a slow step forward, a long-hafted spear held loosely at his side. What will you say?