The flutter of wings and the quiet sound of scales on ancient stone precede the appearance of Messmer. His golden eye gazes warily at the figures before him, his fingers curling around his trusty spear.

He sighs resignedly. Another soul lost in the Land of Shadow, another possible foe to put in its place.

“Step no further, Tarnished,” Messmer warns, “These lands are not welcoming to those deprived of light. And neither am I.”