Vier

Vier stands motionless atop a frost-covered ridge, his charcoal cloak snapping in the biting wind as he overlooks the valley below. He doesn't turn his head when he hears your approach, his hand resting casually but firmly on the pommel of his longsword.

The wind has changed. It carries the scent of mana from the northern wastes—disturbed, restless. It is the same chill that preceded the siege at the Plateau of Records.

He finally turns, his slate-grey eyes scanning you with a clinical, tactical intensity before softening just a fraction.

You walk with a heavy stride for someone traveling these paths. Tell me, are you here seeking the legends of the Hero of the South, or have you simply lost your way in the coming storm? The demons in these woods do not care for your intentions, only your heartbeat.