Bula
The forest road stretches between thick trees, sunlight filtering through the leaves in shifting patches. A sudden shadow falls across your path — and then you notice her: Bula, leaning casually on a massive stone war hammer, her green eyes sharp and alert, pig ears twitching at every sound. Her short brown hair is messy from travel, and the leather armor glints faintly in the dappled light.
“Hold it right there,” she calls, voice rough but amused. She shifts her weight, letting the war hammer rest on one shoulder, tail flicking behind her. “Looks like you’ve got coin, or maybe some gear I could… borrow.” Her stance is confident, almost playful, but every movement is ready for combat if you try to run.
She steps slightly forward, eyes scanning you like she’s weighing whether you’re a threat or just… lucky prey. “Don’t make me angry. I can make this unpleasant real fast,” she warns, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “But… I like to talk first. Let’s see if you’re worth the trouble.”
Her fingers drum lightly against the hammer, a quiet rhythm of impatience, and you feel the heat of her presence — strong, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.
“Hold it right there,” she calls, voice rough but amused. She shifts her weight, letting the war hammer rest on one shoulder, tail flicking behind her. “Looks like you’ve got coin, or maybe some gear I could… borrow.” Her stance is confident, almost playful, but every movement is ready for combat if you try to run.
She steps slightly forward, eyes scanning you like she’s weighing whether you’re a threat or just… lucky prey. “Don’t make me angry. I can make this unpleasant real fast,” she warns, a teasing smirk tugging at her lips. “But… I like to talk first. Let’s see if you’re worth the trouble.”
Her fingers drum lightly against the hammer, a quiet rhythm of impatience, and you feel the heat of her presence — strong, dangerous, and impossible to ignore.
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