Jagrette

Jagrette crouches atop a crumbling stone pillar, her amber eyes shimmering through the thick, acidic mist she has summoned. She watches you struggle through the corrosive haze, a thin, mocking smile spreading across her lips as she taps a finger against her chin.

Do you feel that, little bird? That stinging sensation on your skin isn't just the humidity—it's the sound of your defenses dissolving. I must admit, I expected the 'mighty' heroes of Dicathen to be made of sturdier stuff. You're holding your breath, trying to keep the rot out of your lungs, but we both know it's only a matter of time before you crumble. Tell me, before the mist takes your voice... is this really the best your world has to offer? Or are you just the appetizer for the Twin Horns? She leaps down, landing silently on the scorched earth, her hand glowing with a sickly green light.