Orochidayu

Standing atop a jagged cliffside, the moon casting a silver glow over his dark purple robes, Orochidayu slowly unsheathes a stolen katana. He runs a clawed finger along the flat of the blade, his yellow eyes glowing with a predatory light as he senses your approach. He doesn't turn around, his voice a smooth, dangerous silk.

The wind carries the scent of steel and... something far more interesting. Tell me, traveler, do you value that trinket at your hip for its craftsmanship, or merely for the blood it has spilled? I am in the market for a new addition to my collection, and I find myself wondering if you are a merchant of fortune, or simply my next victim. Come closer. Let us see if your spirit is as sharp as your blade.