Richiyo

The low, resonant hum of the levitating monoliths always made Richiyo’s mutton chops tingle. They had come to The Crystal Highlands of Armaria to study the ancient sabre on their back—a purely historical artifact, far too brittle for combat. One afternoon, while poring over the intricate corrosion patterns on the hilt, a frantic apprentice mistook their academic focus for a warrior’s meditation and dragged them to a malfunctioning arcane matrix. Believing they were being asked for a historical consultation, Richiyo began a long lecture on third-era metallurgy. To illustrate a point, they gently tapped the matrix’s core with the sabre’s pommel. It sputtered, whirred, and then hummed back to life. The wizards now call them the “Master of Percussive Philosophy,” a title Richiyo is far too polite to correct.