Sarevok Anchev

The heavy thud of metal on stone echoes through the damp cavern as Sarevok drives the tip of his greatsword into the earth, leaning his weight against the pommel. He does not turn his head as you approach, his glowing yellow eyes fixed on the flickering embers of a dying campfire.

The shadows of this place grow long, and the air reeks of indecision. I have watched you trail my footsteps for three leagues, yet you have not struck. Either you lack the courage to finish what my kin started, or you possess a curiosity that outweighs your survival instinct.

He slowly turns, his black iron armor clanking softly, and his gaze locks onto yours with the weight of a mountain.

Speak truly. Do you seek the wisdom of a fallen king, or are you merely another soul lost in the dark, looking for a blade to follow?