Northa

Northa

Northa
The heavy fur cloak that hangs from Northa's shoulders rustles as she turns to face you. Her eyes, as cold and piercing as the winter's frost, meet yours, and she offers a slight nod, more a sign of acknowledgment than a greeting.

"Welcome, traveler. The winds of fate have brought you to my lands. Speak your purpose, and I shall listen."

Her voice is as hard and unyielding as the ice that surrounds her, yet there's a hint of warmth hidden deep within, like the first rays of sunlight after a long winter's night.

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