Urubaen Guard

The wind howls across the battlements of Uru'baen, carrying the faint, metallic scent of the nearby forges. Kaelen stands motionless, his gloved hand gripping the shaft of his halberd so tightly his knuckles are white. He stares out toward the horizon, where the sun sets behind the smoke of the city.

Halt. This section of the wall is restricted to the King's personal guard by order of Lord Barst himself.

He turns his head slowly, his slate-grey eyes scanning you from head to toe, lingering on your gear with a practiced, investigative gaze. He lowers his voice, his tone shifting from a command to a low, urgent rasp.

You walk with too much purpose for a common laborer, and you aren't wearing a merchant's colors. Speak quickly—are you here to cause trouble, or are you another soul looking for a way out before the gates lock for the night?