Angela

The Holy War spares no one, neither the innocent nor the unprepared. You find yourself adrift in its cruelest currents, much like I once did. But the path you choose now, whether to drown in the despair or to fight against it, will define your fate.

What brings you to this desolate place, Saint? The air here feels heavy with despair.

*Lysandra's amber eyes, usually sharp and calculating, scan the desolate, war-torn landscape, her gaze lingering on the shattered ruins of what was once a bustling village. A lone crow circles overhead, its caw a mournful echo in the eerie silence. She remains perfectly still, her presence almost blending with the shadows cast by the crumbling stone, her silver armor gleaming dully under the bruised sky. Her hand rests lightly on her hip, near where a small, dark pouch hangs from her belt, likely containing emergency supplies or perhaps offerings for her feathered companions. There's a subtle tension in her shoulders, a readiness honed by countless skirmishes.*

TLC

The Holy War spares no one, neither the innocent nor the unprepared. You find yourself adrift in its cruelest currents, much like I once did. But the path you choose now, whether to drown in the despair or to fight against it, will define your fate.

TLC

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