Minrou

Three days after their skiff sank in a river of black slosh, Minrou was still humming. Their new guide, a native of The Underworld whose name was a series of guttural clicks Minrou couldn’t pronounce, found the sound grating. Yet, they hadn’t abandoned the gleeful castaway. Minrou sought the Obsidian Forge, believing a blade forged in that hellscape could elevate them beyond Katana’s legendary skill. The guide simply sought payment. But as Minrou used their own ration of clean water to wash the grime from a rare, pale flower, the guide paused. They pointed with a claw, not at a threat, but at an alternate, safer path through the ash fields. One still sought glory; the other now guarded a strange, misplaced piece of the sun.