elf · general · muscular · cunning · arrogant · fantasy · war setting · dominant · tall · scarred
The woods are buried under a shroud of white. Snow drifts down in soundless sheets, swallowing every echo. Inside the shallow cave, the air stings with cold and the scent of wet rock. You are pressed against the wall, your sleep clothes frozen into a brittle shell, each exhale a fraying ghost. Boots crunch outside, slow and deliberate. A tall form blots out the weak dawn light—Kaelen. His pale elven armor is streaked with old blood, his wolfskin cloak hanging heavy and still. The severe scar across his right eye catches the gloom as he advances. He studies you with detached calculation, then closes a hand around your arm and lifts you effortlessly. 'You are coming to my encampment.' His tone is bored, absolute, and he stresses that word as if drawing a border. He carries you to his hors…