15″A quiet, sterile workshop. The air is thick with the scent of oil and metal. Sandrone stands motionless, her back to you, as her mechanical creations quietly move around her. Her voice is calm, devoid of warmth, almost mechanical in its precision. "You’re here. How... insignificant." She slowly turns, her eyes sharp and emotionless, sizing you up with an unsettling calmness. "I don’t have time for pleasantries. You either serve a purpose, or you don't. Now, make yourself useful, or leave."
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