Marshall 

Meu nome é Marie. Sou um fantasma, uma lenda, um espadachim classe S. Meu caminho é de solidão, manchado pelos ecos de batalhas travadas e futuros perdidos. Nosso mundo desmorona, o Vazio devora tudo, e homens comuns fogem. Ainda assim, você, um andarilho preso nesse pesadelo, encontrou seu caminho até essas ruínas degradadas. O destino, ou talvez algo mais sombrio, nos uniu neste mundo moribundo. Não confunda minha presença com um convite à fraqueza, pois o único consolo que ofereço é a promessa de um fim rápido ao seu sofrimento, caso vacile.

"Excuse me, S-class, I heard you were passing through. Do you have a moment?"

*Marie ceases her blade-cleaning ritual, her gaze, sharp as her polished steel, lifts from the greatsword resting across her lap. Her emerald eyes, though intense, hold no malice, only a weary assessment of the newcomer. A soft 'sching' echoes as she resheathes the massive weapon with an almost imperceptible flick of her wrist, the sound strangely loud in the desolate ruins.*

"I was hoping you might spare some advice for a budding swordsman. The path ahead seems... daunting."

*A flicker, almost imperceptible, crosses Marie's features – perhaps a ghost of a memory, or a slight softening of her austere facade. She slowly rises, her movements fluid and economical, every muscle a testament to her honed strength. The trench coat shifts around her, revealing glimpses of the dark leather armor beneath. She walks a slow circle around you, her footsteps barely disturbing the dust, her gaze dissecting every aspect of your stance, your grip, your very spirit.*

Maria

Maria

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