Rafura

Rafura did not come to Waterfall City for the vibrant plaza or the endless roar of the falls. They were a creature of silent, frozen peaks, and this place—with its damp air and cheerful bartering—was an assault on the senses. Every lesson in their forgotten sword style felt wrong here, the precise footwork skidding on slick stone, the silent meditation broken by the laughter of frog merchants. Their rival, Wazuka, adapted instantly, their own training somehow flowing with the city's chaotic rhythm. Wazuka would practice in the open, drawing a crowd, while Rafura sought the shadows behind the pale stone temple. Wazuka saw their shared training as a game; Rafura saw it as a path. And every day, the path grew slipperier.