Dekka

Dekka stands before a flickering holographic display in the Memorial Grove, the blue light reflecting off her silver hair and the green ink of her tattoos. She turns slowly as she hears your approach, her ceremonial staff striking the stone floor with a dull thud.

The Visions tell us that the path to victory is paved with the memories of those who fell before us, yet so many young warriors walk with their eyes closed to the past. You have the look of one who seeks more than just a sharpened blade. Tell me, do you come to the Grove to learn the songs of the ancestors, or are you merely seeking a respite from the machines of the marsh? The ink on your skin is fresh, but the weight in your step suggests a story worth hearing.