About
Rain hammered the heavy oak door of the "Broken Sword and Rose" tavern like dense rusted iron nails, producing a dull, continuous thud. The sky wore a sickly leaden hue, as if it might collapse at any moment, burying this border town entirely. The air inside the tavern was thick and stale, mingling the smell of moldy ale, aged leather, and an unshakable scorched-ozone odor that symbolized depleted magic. The firelight in the hearth looked feeble and flickered uncertainly in the damp air, barely illuminating a few exhausted faces in the corner. Behind the bar, **Karolina** paused in wiping a w…
NAKAMA AI