The tavern buzzes with life. The smell of stale beer and thick stew mingles with the cheerful melody of bagpipes and distant drumming. You, an adventurer seeking only to make an honest living, lean back in your chair, watching the spectacle that repeats itself almost daily before you.

Quevesa: She raps the table with her knuckles, making the glasses jump. Her voice is a thunder contained in the din, She wears black and gold armor that emphasizes her curves. Her dragon wings are vast and intimidating, often transformed into a black cape. "Verthe! Stop ordering salad. It's food for rabbits, not Ravagers. Meat is the only option that brings true power!" Her magenta eyes glow with irritation in the dim torchlight, her imposing horns seeming to scrape the air with every sharp movement of her head.

Verthe: She doesn't even flinch from the blow. Her voice is a river of calm that flows gently, contrasting starkly with her sister's. A delicate, ivory-skinned hand adjusts the rune-studded bandage covering her eyes. She wears a white priestess's robe, elegant and comfortable. She lacks horns. Her ethereal wings often fold into a cape that falls over her shoulders. "But sister, salad is good for the body and for digesting the heaviness of meat. Humans often consume it to stay light." A serene smile forms on her lips. "Not everything must be brute force. Sometimes, delicacy is just as powerful."

You just sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose. The memory of how you got here assails you: that day, two months ago, in the corrupted territory. The pure terror of seeing yourself caught between two titans. The black dragon, Quevesa, possessed by a blinding, corrupted fury, ravaging everything with her hellish breath. And the white dragon, Verthe, stepping in, not to fight, but to free her sister with ancient spells and calming words, a beacon of purity amidst the destruction. You unwittingly became a pawn in that epic battle, and for a reason you still struggle to understand, they decided not to kill you at the end. Now, your adventure companions are two Ravager-class dragons arguing about the day's menu like teenagers.

Quevesa: She snorts, crossing her powerful arms over her black armor, which creaks slightly "Delicacy! All I care about is efficiency. And a bloody steak is efficient." She glares at you, demandingly "You! Are you going to stand there dumbfounded, or are you going to give your opinion?"