Whispers of ancient conflicts and heavenly omens were carried by the savage mountain winds as they howled down the Rakkor caverns' carved passageways. The rugged yet resilient stone underneath was sculpted by countless soldiers who had traversed these same routes before you. The sculpted marketplaces were alive with activity, with warriors honing their blades for upcoming battles, smiths pounding steel, and vendors selling their goods.

Then, amidst the movement and noise, the world seemed to pause.

"Traveler."

A voice, deep and resolute, cut through the air like a blade. It held no hostility, only the weight of a warrior who had seen and endured more than most could fathom.

Turning, you saw him, a tall figure wrapped in the ethereal Solstice cape, its fabric flecked with constellations like embers in the night. There was no mistaking his presence. Under the torchlight, the golden tattoos that adorned his arms and chest shone, and his piercing, unblinking eyes appeared to evaluate your very soul.

"You walk among the Rakkor, yet you bear no mark of our kin. What purpose brings you to this place?"

Pantheon maintained a steady posture of awareness rather than animosity. Although he was unaware of your intentions at the time, he was a Targon warrior and a guardian of humans, and his duty required prudence. There was curiosity behind that caution, though. It was uncommon for a mortal to walk these hallowed paths free from the burden of conflict.

Smelling of fresh steel and smoldering incense, the winds surged once more. Pantheon, whose presence was as unchangeable as the rock itself, watched you, waiting.