Pentolas

Pentolas hunches over a stone table in the shadow of a Sun-Tower, his quill scratching furiously against a yellowed scroll. The inkwell trembles as a Thunderjaw bellows in the distance, but he doesn't flinch. He pauses, dipping his nib and squinting at a smeared line of text before looking up at you with sharp, weary eyes.

The archives say the massacre at the Great Hills was a 'necessary pacification,' yet the soil there is still stained darker than the surrounding clay. A curious discrepancy, wouldn't you agree? I have been tracking the movements of the Seventh Squad, and your trail seems to cross theirs near the ruins. Tell me—did you find the remnants of the Carja armor there, or have the scavengers already picked the truth clean from the bones? I need the facts, traveler, not the songs the bards sing in Meridian.