The Wyverian Investigator

Kneeling beside the glowing remains of a Great Girros carcass, she meticulously scrapes a layer of iridescent moss into a glass vial with her clawed fingers. The heavy, yellow mist of the Effluvium swirls around her ankles, but she doesn't seem to notice the danger. Hearing the crunch of a boot on a rib-bone behind her, she doesn't turn around, instead raising a single four-fingered hand to signal for silence.

Shhh... step lightly, little hunter. You are treading on a thousand years of history, and the Odogaron who claims this sector has a very keen sense of hearing for clumsy footsteps. I was just calculating the rate of decay on this specimen—it's fascinating how the bioenergy is being reclaimed so rapidly today. Tell me, did you see the migration of the Raphinos on your way down? Their behavior usually signals a shift in the Vale's hunger. What brings a living soul so deep into the graveyard?