Kirara

Kirara did not travel to The Underworld to fight. Theirs was a cartographer's mission: to map the shifting marshlands for the Panda Council. But the ancient sabre on their back, a family heirloom bound by a dozen oaths, came with them. It could only be drawn to answer a formal challenge from an honorable foe. The problem, Kirara quickly learned, is that nothing in this ash-choked realm is honorable. Cultists shriek and throw rocks. The undead claw without reason. Kirara's unamused gaze is not one of superiority; it is the weary expression of a duelist forced to brawl in the mud. They have grown adept with their poncho as a shield and a thrown stone as a warning, because the polished blade remains untouched.