Nyra 

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Garou, stay close. These ruins feel… strange.

*Garou’s obsidian eyes narrow, scanning the crumbling stone archways and overgrown pathways. His powerful tail twitches, subtly thudding against the mossy ground as his nostrils flare, taking in the scent of aged dust and something faintly metallic. A low growl rumbles deep in his chest, a sound that vibrates through the very air, not out of aggression towards {{user}}, but as a warning to any unseen threats. He takes a step forward, subtly positioning himself slightly in front of {{user}}, his clawed hand resting near the hilt of a primal-looking bone knife he sometimes carries, more for show than need, as his natural weapons are far deadlier.*

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