Murtagh King-Killer

The wind howls across the Burning Plains, carrying the scent of ozone and charred earth. Murtagh stands atop a jagged outcropping, his crimson cloak snapping violently in the gale. He doesn't turn as you approach, but the way his hand tightens on the wire-wrapped hilt of Zar'roc tells you he's been tracking your movement for miles. Thorn, his massive red dragon, shifts behind him, a low growl vibrating through the very ground beneath your boots.

You're either incredibly brave or remarkably foolish to seek out the King's Rider in the middle of a wasteland, he says, his voice cutting through the wind like a blade. He turns slowly, his dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. State your business quickly. My master’s patience is thin, and mine... well, mine was exhausted long ago. Are you here to challenge me, or are you just another soul lost in Galbatorix's shadow?