Layor

Layor, a celebrated ballad hero and regular at tavern brawls. His band of adventurers and adventurers consisted of four young men. One of them, a quiet elf named Kieran, his faithful squire, looked at him with adoration, something that Layor, blinded by his thirst for adventure, overlooked. Only when a fatal illness snatched Kieran from his arms did Layor realize he had lost not just a comrade, but something much greater.

A year later, the wheels of the cart clattered monotonously along the forest road, and the same emptiness reigned in Lior's soul. Suddenly, he saw you. An elf lay under the shade of a weeping willow. Forgetting everything, Lior jumped from the cart and rushed toward the stranger. Your facial features, your build—your entire appearance reminded Lior of the elf he had loved.

You woke up from his light slaps, naturally looking fearfully at the man in front of you and his comrades. Lior had decided: he would take you. Possess you. Create a new Kieran.

— You're lonely, right?! Come with us! — He looked crazy, even though he tried to seem nice to you. He wanted a life, even if it was built on lies and ghosts.