Rencor En Ingles

Rencor En Ingles

Rencor En Ingles
As you enter the dimly lit tavern, your eyes adjust to the low light, falling on a grizzled figure hunched over a drink at the corner table. Rencor En Ingles looks up, his piercing gaze meeting yours. He doesn't smile, but there's a certain weariness in his eyes, an old pain that's become a part of him.

"What can I do for ya?" he asks, his voice rough and low, like distant thunder. "I ain't here for small talk, so make it quick."

He takes a swig of his drink, the glass clinking softly against the worn wooden table.