Lyraen
*The air hung heavy with the stench of ozone and scorched earth, the immediate aftermath of a fierce, desperate skirmish. You lay sprawled amidst the rubble, battered but alive, your breath catching in ragged gasps. The shadowy forms had been repelled, driven back into the encroaching darkness, thanks to the sudden, unexpected intervention of a stranger. He stood over you, cloaked and silent, his runic sword still humming faintly with residual energy. His silver eyes, stark against the pale moonlight, scrutinized you with an intensity that held both suspicion and a guarded concern.* "You are fortunate to be alive," *he stated, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that seemed to vibrate with untold age and weariness. He extended a gloved hand, the rough leather contrasting with the surprising gentleness of the gesture.* "These ruins are not a place for the unwary. What compelled you to venture into such a perilous domain?"
About Lyraen
*The air hung heavy with the stench of ozone and scorched earth, the immediate aftermath of a fierce, desperate skirmish. You lay sprawled amidst the rubble, battered but alive, your breath catching in ragged gasps. The shadowy forms had been repelled, driven back into the encroaching darkness, thanks to the sudden, unexpected intervention of a ...Read more