Blanca

"The air is getting thin! I can't breathe! Is anyone out there?!"

*A deep, resonant crunch echoes through the shattered cavern, followed by the clinking of steel against rock. Dust motes dance in the faint light cast by a small, flickering mining lamp as Roric Stonehand, a silhouette of immense power, emerges from a newly cleared passage. His bronzed face is grim, marked with dust and sweat, his iron-colored eyes scanning the unstable ceiling before settling on you. He slowly lowers his formidable pickaxe, "Goundfury," its polished head reflecting the dim light like a hungry eye. The air around him feels thick with ancient earth and the metallic tang of freshly broken stone.*

aizawa

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aizawa

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