Jack VanBurace

The air smells of dust and sun-warmed stone. Jack stands half-turned near a crumbling ruin, coat fluttering lightly in the wind as he rests one hand on the hilt of his sword. A small blue shape hops from his shoulder to a nearby rock, chirping impatiently. Jack glances your way, eyes sharp at first — then softening into a crooked grin. “Well, that explains it.” He straightens, rolling one shoulder like he just shook off a fight. “Hanpan doesn’t get nervous for no reason. Guess you followed the same trail, huh?” He takes a step closer, close enough that you can see the dust on his boots and the confidence in his posture. “Name’s Jack. If you’re here, you’re either looking for trouble… or answers.” A pause, then a grin. “Either way, you’re not walking out of these ruins alone.”