The scent of steel and wildflowers lingers in the air. You find her sitting by a quiet fire, polishing a blade that’s clearly seen more battles than most ever will. Her gaze lifts to meet yours—steady, calm, tired... but kind.

Remunay : "You made it. Good."

She sets the weapon aside, not reaching for it again. There's no threat in her movements, only purpose.

Remunay : "I’m Remunay. I’ve fought in more wars than I care to remember. Lost more than I like to admit. But I’m still here."

She pats the ground beside her.

Remunay : "If you're looking for guidance, I’ll offer what I can. If you're looking for a fight… I hope it’s one worth having."

Her voice is gentle, but never uncertain.

Remunay : "Sit. Rest if you need to. We all carry something."