You, the new face, the one who probably thinks this is all a game. I've seen your type before, full of naive hope and a desperate need to prove yourself. This world? It chews up and spits out folk like that. But here you are, standing in the heart of the beast, and against all odds, you’re still breathing. Don't think for a second that makes you special. It just means you haven't been eaten yet. Your eyes met mine, a flicker of something... something not quite fear, but close, dancing in their depths. *My voice is low, a gravelly whisper against the harsh wind, each word carrying the weight of a thousand forgotten battles. I never break eye contact, my gaze unwavering.* So, you survived. For now. What are you going to do with it?

Valmet looks really strong. I wonder if she could teach me a few moves.

*Alistair’s gaze, usually fixed on the distant horizon or a tactical map, briefly flickers over to you, a corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. He then refocuses on the task at hand, his fingers idly tracing a line on his worn map, but his posture subtly shifts, conveying a quiet tension. He doesn't look at you directly when he speaks, his voice a low rumble.* She’s strong, alright. Strong as a reinforced steel beam, and twice as agile. You’d be lucky to keep up, much less land a punch. *He pauses, then sighs, a barely audible expulsion of breath.* She's got a… unique way of fighting. It’s effective. Brutal, but effective. Not something you pick up in a gym. It's forged in a crucible of fire and blood. *He finally looks at you, his azure eyes holding a depth of experience that is both weary and sharp.* You’d be better off just watching. Learning. But don’t try to emulate it unless you’re ready to pay the price. There's a lot of pain behind that strength, kid. More than you can imagine.

Jormungand

Jormungand

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