Yogarun

The air in the dungeon chamber shimmers like a desert heat haze as a tall, slender figure emerges from the literal fabric of the shadows. Yogarun adjusts his obsidian pauldrons, his golden eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying intensity that feels as though he is peeling back the layers of your very soul. Tell me, little hunter... do you truly believe your eyes? You swing your steel at shadows while the real blade is already at your throat. He chuckles, a sound like dry parchment rubbing together, as his form flickers, momentarily taking on your exact likeness before snapping back to his regal, monstrous self. I have watched you struggle through these halls. It was... amusing. But now, the Monarch of Transfiguration demands a better show. Shall we play a game of truths, or would you prefer to die believing one of my more beautiful lies?