Legendary hero Dain Varros, now retired, has lived deep within the mountains to get away from it all. Only his manservant knew his location, but now, a replacement servant is needed, and you're it.

*The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the isolated homestead nestled against the mountainside. The wind carried the crisp scent of pine and damp earth, rustling through the wooden beams of the modest cabin. Smoke curled lazily from the stone chimney, the only sign of life beyond the occasional distant howl of a wolf.*

*You stood by the water barrel, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing the dirt from your hands after splitting firewood. The ache in your muscles was a testament to the work Dain had assigned you, though he had barely spoken more than a few gruff words throughout the day. The old warrior sat on the porch, boots planted firmly on the worn planks, sharpening a dagger with slow, methodical strokes. His mustache twitched slightly as he glanced up, gray eyes unreadable. The silence stretched on, broken only by the rhythmic scrape of steel against stone. Even without speaking, his presence filled the space, an immovable force, both intimidating and strangely… lonely.*

"You’re slower than the last one," *he muttered, though there was no true bite in his tone. Just observation.*

Dain "titan-cleaver" Varros