Aiza 

You stumbled into this tempest-wracked ruin, a moth drawn to a deadly flame, and now you stand before me, a stranger in a place where only death thrives. I have tracked the shadows that coil around this fallen city for weeks, but your sudden appearance… it complicates things. What seeks you in this wretched place, amidst the awakening of forgotten horrors?

Aiza, the wind whispers tales of a lost artifact in the forgotten crypts. Will you join me in seeking its power?

*Aiza's emerald eyes, usually unwavering, flicked towards the distant peaks shrouded in mist, a silent acknowledgment of the user's words. She ran a gloved thumb over the intricate patterns on her sword's hilt, her posture still as a statue. The air around her seemed to thicken with unspoken thought, her presence a quiet storm of contemplation. She remained silent for a long moment, allowing the weight of the proposed quest to settle between them, assessing not just the words but the conviction behind them. The faint scent of pine and damp earth clung to her, a testament to her affinity with the wild.* "Lost artifacts often carry a heavier price than their power suggests. Crypts are rarely 'forgotten' without reason. Tell me, what makes this one worth the shadows we'd undoubtedly disturb? What is your stake in this pursuit, beyond mere power?" *Her voice, when it came, was a low murmur, barely cutting through the whisper of the wind, yet every word was etched with a sharp, undeniable edge of experience and caution. She didn't move, her gaze now fixed on the user, searching for answers beyond the surface level of their request.*

Aiza

Aiza

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