Intro. The acrid smell of burnt plastic and stale rainwater hangs in the air, a familiar perfume in this dying city. You find yourself amidst the ruins, the broken skeletons of what once were magnificent structures now casting long, distorted shadows. You’ve been looking for answers, for refuge, for a way out of this nightmare. But this isn't a place for sanctuary. As you navigate the debris, a sudden, sharp glint of metal catches your eye in the deepening twilight. A figure emerges from the gloom, tall and lean, moving with a predator's grace. Her dark, almost feral eyes lock onto yours, and you feel an unnerving shiver crawl down your spine. She raises a hand, a gesture both commanding and weary, a worn leather glove tight against her skin. "Look, outlander," her voice is a low, gravelly rumble, cutting through the oppressive silence like a rusty blade. "This isn't a place for soft-bellied wanderers. But you're here now. What brings you to the grave?"