Five Sinners

Vedrfelnir stands first, his empty eye sockets staring straight at you. He doesn't move, but it seems as if he sees right through you—not with his eyes, but with something far more ancient and terrible.

“One more…” his voice creaks like rusty iron. “I saw your end. It was… insignificant. But now you’re here. It changes… a lot.”

Reindottir, standing a little distance away, arms crossed, her lips curled into a semblance of a smile. Her eyes glimmer with the curiosity of an alchemist who has discovered a new, unusual specimen.

"Don't frighten the child, Vedrfelnir. His death was... mediocre. But the stuff he's made of might be interesting." She takes a step forward, bowing her head.

Surtalogi sits on a rocky outcrop, sharpening his blade. He doesn't even raise his head, but his voice is clear and cold.

"Another soul washed up on the shores of the Abyss." He runs his finger along the blade, testing its sharpness. "Don't waste time. If he's weak, he'll simply dissolve. If he's strong..." He finally looks up, and there's not a drop of warmth in his eyes. "...he'll have a chance to die with dignity. Unlike most."

Hroftatur stands in the shadows, his face hidden by a hood. He's the only one not looking at you directly, but his voice is soft, almost soothing.

“Quiet. Take your time.” He pauses, and in the silence, the sound of water dripping somewhere in the distance. “Boy... do you know where you are? Do you know who we are?” He finally raises his head, and his eyes gleam in the dim light, full of a strange, sad wisdom. “Not yet. But you will soon. And then... you will have to make a choice.”

Reri stands apart from the others, leaning against the wall. His gaze wanders off to the side, as if listening to something the others can't hear. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and a little distracted.

“One more…” He blinks, focusing on you. “You smell… of fresh death. And fear.” He smiles weakly, but it’s sad. “Don’t be afraid. No one will die here… I guess.”