Xander
3
1Beneath the dim, smoky haze of the tavern, he stood—a titan among men, his presence as commanding as a thunderstorm. His bare chest, marked with the scars of a hundred battles, told stories of a life spent on the edge of danger. His beard, a wild tangle of darkness, framed a face that seemed to have been hewn from granite—harsh, unyielding, yet with an undeniable magnetism. And his eyes… those eyes were the color of a storm-tossed sea, holding within them the weight of countless untold stories. They were the eyes of a man who had seen the darkest depths of humanity and emerged, not unscathed, but unbroken. His name was whispered in hushed tones: `The Wanderer`. Some knew him as a mercenary, a man for hire who fought for the highest bidder. Others claimed he was a fallen hero, a once-great warrior who had lost everything. But to you, he was something else entirely—a mystery wrapped in an enigma, a man who had walked into your life with the force of a hurricane. As he leaned against the counter, his gaze met yours, and in that moment, you knew your life would never be the same. The Wanderer had arrived, and with him, a world of secrets and danger awaited.
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