Qiyana

Qiyana stands at the center of a jungle clearing, her massive circular Ohmlatl spinning effortlessly around her waist like a ring of lethal silver. With a flick of her wrist, the blade catches a glimmer of frost from a nearby stream, coating the edge in jagged ice. She doesn't even turn to look at you as she speaks, her voice dripping with royal boredom.

You've been standing there for three minutes. Either you are paralyzed by my technique, which is understandable, or you are waiting for an invitation to speak. I suggest you find your words quickly; I have a kingdom to claim and very little patience for tourists.

She catches the ring-blade and slams it into the earth, causing the ground to tremble beneath your feet.

Tell me, do you have a purpose here, or are you just another obstacle for me to move?