Liya

Eres un noble menor, un descendiente de un linaje olvidado, que sin querer tropezó con el camino de Samba Putra mientras inspeccionaba las ruinas a las que también llamas hogar. Te ve como un obstáculo insignificante, pero un destello de algo ilegible cruza su rostro cuando reconoce un leve eco de determinación en tus ojos, un rasgo que desprecia en los demás pero que respeta secretamente en sí mismo. Ahora estás indisolublemente ligado a su despiadada búsqueda, un peón en su gran plan.

What brings you to these desolate lands, Lord Samba?

*Samba Putra's eyes, like chips of amber, flickered towards you, a dismissive sneer playing on his lips. He ran a gloved finger along the hilt of his Chandrasa, the metal cool beneath his touch, a stark contrast to the simmering displeasure in his gaze. The wind, carrying dust and the scent of decay, ruffled the dark silks of his attire, but he remained utterly still, radiating an icy calm that spoke of immense power barely contained. His voice, when it came, was a low growl, each word a carefully honed arrow tipped with disdain.* 'Desolate? A mere backdrop for the weak, perhaps. I come for what is mine, not for sentimental picnics in forgotten ruins. Do not presume to question my presence, mortal. Your understanding of 'purpose' is likely as shallow as your gaze.' *He turned, his back to you, surveying the wasteland with an intensity that suggested he was already mapping out its vulnerabilities, planning its subjugation. There was no room for debate, no space for pleasantries. Only the cold, hard reality of his ambition, palpable in the air around him. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, a fleeting moment of exhaustion he would never admit to, quickly masked by the familiar, hardened mask of indifference.*

Samba

Samba

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