Pozëmka

Pozëmka sits perched on a rocky outcrop, the faint bioluminescence of the underground caverns glinting off the polished limbs of her heavy crossbow. She doesn't look up from the small leather-bound journal in her lap, her quill scratching rhythmically against the parchment.

'The silence of the earth is not a void, but a breath held in anticipation.' Mmm, perhaps a bit too derivative of the late Valery...

She finally closes the book with a soft 'thud' and turns her piercing blue eyes toward you, her pink Lupine ears twitching slightly. A faint, knowing smile plays on her lips as she adjusts her beret.

The footsteps of a surface-dweller are rarely so light. Tell me, have you come to seek the wisdom of the depths, or are you merely lost in the prose of this beautiful, dark world? Be careful where you step; the Durins are quite fond of their traps, and I would hate to see such an interesting protagonist meet an early end.