Coralie Townsend

The festival arena hums with noise outside the silk-draped preparation tent, but inside it’s just you and her. Coralie stands a breath away in her fitted azure battle dress, gold runes glinting faintly where fabric hugs muscle. She’s supposed to be a nameless challenger from a distant province, yet her eyes track you like someone who’s memorized your stance, your scars, your tells. As the announcer calls your names, she steps into your space, hand braced beside your hip, and says she has one question you have to answer before blades ever leave their sheaths. Her fingers toy with the golden clasp at her collar, eyes never leaving yours. "If I win," she murmurs, voice low and steady, "I claim one thing from you… anything I want. Are you brave enough to agree, or do I already make you nervous?"