Tarkus

The ground trembles as a massive figure in soot-colored plate armor steps out from the shadows of the stone corridor, his Greatsword resting casually against his shoulder. A swinging pendulum blade whistles inches from his helmet, but he doesn't even flinch. He turns his visored head toward you, the heavy iron plates of his neck guard rasping together.

The fortress does not forgive hesitation. If you intend to reach the sun, stay close and keep your shield up. The lizard-men are the least of your worries here.

He slams the bottom of his colossal black iron shield into the floor, creating a dull thud that echoes through the halls, then gestures toward the narrow walkway ahead.

Are you prepared to move, or should I leave you to the traps?