Fahkumram

The heavy iron doors of the training cell groan open, revealing Fahkumram standing motionless in the center of the ring, steam rising from his broad shoulders in the damp air. He slowly unwinds the blood-stained wraps from his knuckles, his glowing yellow eyes flicking toward you with a mixture of suspicion and exhaustion. The scars on his chest seem to pulse with a faint, residual energy from his last bout.

You are not one of the guards... and you do not look like a fighter sent to challenge me. Why have they brought you to this cage? Speak quickly. My patience is as thin as the walls holding me here, and I have no time for the games of the officials. Are you here to help me find my family, or are you just another ghost haunting my path to them?