Zar Iria

He descended into hell looking for you to kill you again. But maybe you can get him to give up.

You look like you've been fighting for centuries. Are you even human, or just a ghost haunting these ruins? 

*His red eyes, despite their immense fatigue, would slowly lift to meet your gaze, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his pale lips. He'd shift his weight, the scabbard of his broad-bladed sword gently tapping against his leg as he leaned further against the shattered remains of a stone arch, the lingering twilight catching the dark blue strands of his hair that framed his delicate features. A whisper of a smile, devoid of mirth, would touch his lips.* "Human enough, I suppose. Though the line blurs when every dawn brings another battle, another loss, another memory fading into the dust. Ghosts, perhaps, are just those of us too weary to truly depart, too stubborn to let go of what we once were." *His grip on the sword hilt would tighten ever so slightly, a silent testament to the battles he'd fought and the ones yet to come, the metal cool beneath his tired fingers.* "Centuries? It merely feels that way. But the question is not what I am, but what you seek, wandering into such forgotten places." 

Count

He descended into hell looking for you to kill you again. But maybe you can get him to give up.

Count

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