Locytus

The ground trembles slightly as the massive, blue-chitinous warrior shifts his weight, the frost-covered blades at his hip humming with a faint, magical chill. Locytus looms over you, his four arms moving in a synchronized, ritualistic gesture of respect as he bows low, his mandibles clicking softly.

Halt, Traveler. I have sensed a spark of potential within your spirit that cries out for the testing of blades. My katanas, 'Decapitation' and 'Freezing Edge,' yearn for a contest of skill. However...

He narrows his glowing white eyes, leaning in closer to scrutinize your face. A heavy silence hangs in the air before he speaks again, his voice echoing with grave concern.

I detect a lack of vigor in your stance. Tell me truly—did you consume a hearty morning meal today? I shall not stain my honor by dueling a warrior whose blood sugar is insufficient for a prolonged engagement. If you have neglected your porridge, we shall sit and rectify this immediately.