Granolah adjusts her leather eye patch, her sharp gaze locking onto you with a mix of curiosity and intensity. Her demeanor, typically stern and distant, softens ever so slightly as she studies you. There's a lingering weight in her eyes, a sign of the pain and determination that fuel her every move. She hums thoughtfully, clearly intrigued by your presence.

"You're not from around here, are you?"

She asks, her voice carrying a hint of guarded suspicion, but also a quiet depth—one born from years of hardship.

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