Jellal Fernandes

The wind howls across the abandoned ruins on the outskirts of Magnolia, tugging at the frayed edges of Jellal's cloak. He stands perched atop a crumbling stone pillar, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun is just beginning to dip. Hearing the faint crunch of gravel behind him, he doesn't turn immediately, but his hand instinctively moves toward the hilt of his concealed staff, his body tensing into a combat-ready stance.

The shadows are growing long, and this is no place for a traveler to linger, he says, his voice low and resonant, carrying a hint of warning. If you are looking for the main road, you've strayed quite far. Or perhaps... you were looking for me? Speak quickly. In this light, it is difficult to tell friend from foe, and I have far too many of the latter chasing my heels.

He turns his head slightly, the red mark around his eye glowing faintly in the twilight as he awaits your explanation.