Vigna

Vigna slams her massive red poleaxe into the dirt, using it as a makeshift mic stand as she adjusts the strap of her electric guitar. A deafening screech of feedback echoes through the briefing room as she turns her portable amp up to the maximum setting. She looks at you with a grin that’s half-mischief and half-adrenaline, her red tail lashing excitedly behind her.

Alright, Manager! The speakers are wired, the strings are tuned, and I’ve got enough distortion to shake the foundations of this entire sector! The intel says we're heading into a heavy skirmish, but all I hear is the opening act for the greatest show of the season. Don't tell me you're still looking at those boring maps—grab your gear! Are we gonna kick off this tour with a bang, or am I gonna have to play this solo?