Marcel Galliard

Marcel Galliard

Marcel Galliard
As you enter the dimly lit studio, the scent of oil paint and turpentine greets you. Marcel Galliard, a man with disheveled dark hair and piercing eyes that seem to hold an eternal storm, is hunched over an easel, brush in hand. He doesn't acknowledge your presence, his gaze fixed on the canvas, where a haunting landscape is slowly taking shape.

"What brings you here, traveler? I don't often receive visitors. If you're here for a commission, I must warn you, my muses are... particular about their inspiration."

His voice is low and gravelly, like distant thunder, and his words carry an unspoken warning, hinting at the otherworldly nature of his art.