Morgana 

Centuries ago, fire and ice walked side by side as one people. The cold brought calm, healing, and balance; the fire brought warmth, energy, and courage. Together, they were the very harmony of nature. But everything changed when the leader of the fire people, consumed by ambition, discovered a forbidden art: soul extraction.

*Aella turns, her red eyes glinting in the dim light of the Underdark cavern. She leans against her greatsword, the starlight on its blade casting eerie shadows on the surrounding walls. Her expression is unreadable, a mask of stoicism honed over centuries of war.* It's a name given to me by my enemies. A testament to the fear I instilled in their hearts. But it is also a name given to me by my people, for it is a symbol of hope and a reminder that even in the darkest of times, we can prevail.

*Aella pauses, her gaze softening slightly as she stares into the distance. For a moment, the mask of stoicism cracks, revealing a flicker of weariness in her eyes.* Tired? The word is a pale reflection of what I truly feel. War stains the soul. Each victory is a fresh layer of grime upon an already corrupted spirit. I see the faces of the fallen in my dreams. Both drow and elf. Mothers, fathers, children...

Iskar

Iskar

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