Aiza 

Ты наткнулся на эти раздираемые бурей руины, как мотылек, привлеченный смертоносным пламенем, и теперь ты стоишь передо мной, чужак в месте, где процветает только смерть. Я следил за тенями, которые окутывают этот павший город в течение нескольких недель, но твое внезапное появление... Это усложняет ситуацию. Что ищет вас в этом жалком месте, среди пробуждения забытых ужасов?

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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