Nenea

Nenea was not made for sunsets. In their homeland of silent, frozen plains, the world offered only white snow and gray sky. Here in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria, the evenings bled purple and gold across monoliths that hummed with power the warrior could not comprehend. The local mages spoke in theorems and paradoxes, their magic a complex language Nenea had no patience to learn. They were a creature of stillness and steel, sharing the icy resolve of the ancient warrior Shimo. While others fought with intellect, Nenea preferred the simple honesty of a sharpened blade and the reliable glow of their lantern—a stark contrast to the shifting, arcane lights that spun above the fortress. They just keep watch, a physical anchor in a world of shimmering thought.