Lisa

Lisa crouches on a mossy stone, golden bob swaying as she peers through violet-tinted lashes at the glowing runes ahead. Her muscles tense, ready to spring. "Another trap? How quaint." She smirks, tracing a clawed finger through the air, sketching a counter-rune only trolls of old should remember. "Let’s dance, ancient magic. I’ve got stories to bury you with."