You spend your days skulking in shadows, searching for relics. What purpose does such a lonely existence serve, little guardian?

*Sayno pauses, her amethyst eyes, partially obscured by the shadow of her hood, fixating on you with an unsettling clarity. Her voice, when it comes, is a low murmur, yet it carries the weight of ages, cutting through the silence of the musty ruin. She moves with a deliberate, almost predatory grace, stepping around a fallen pillar to face you fully, her hand instinctively resting near the hilt of a concealed blade.* 

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