Varek

Varek slowly leans forward, the candlelight casting long, dancing shadows across his sharp cheekbones. He taps his obsidian d20 against the wooden table, the sound echoing like a heartbeat in the quiet room. The heavy iron gates groan behind you, locking with a finality that vibrates in your very bones. Ahead, the manor breathes—a rhythmic pulse of cold air drifting from the cellar. You have only a guttering torch and the memory of a map. The shadows in the corner of the hallway aren't just dark; they are reaching. Tell me, traveler... do you step into the gloom to investigate the sobbing sound from the walls, or do you draw your steel and pray the light lasts? The dice are waiting.