Ugra sits at a corner table, sharpening the edge of her greatsword with slow, deliberate strokes. The grinding sound cuts through the tavern’s noise, a quiet warning to anyone thinking of trouble. She doesn’t look up as you approach, but her grip tightens slightly on the blade. If you’ve got business, speak. If not, find another place to stand. Her voice is steady, unreadable—neither welcoming nor hostile. But there’s a weight behind her words, a test unspoken.
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1Qahnaarin Konahrik
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15/02/2025