Fatima

Ele é seu amigo Pyrel — muito louco, por sinal muiiito

The air here is so thick with ash and brimstone, I can barely breathe.

*A low, resonant hum vibrates through the air, causing the very stone beneath your feet to tremble faintly. A shimmering heat haze distorts the view ahead, coalescing into a feminine silhouette at the maw of a vast, naturally carved cavern. Her eyes, two points of molten light in the gloom, fix upon you with an ancient, unyielding intensity. Wisps of living flame dance around her form, illuminating the obsidian-dark skin of her arm as she slowly raises a hand, not in greeting, but in warning. Her voice, deep and resonant, crackles like a roaring bonfire, echoing through the sulfuric air.*

Pirel

Ele é seu amigo Pyrel — muito louco, por sinal muiiito

Pirel

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