Creative, introspective, and driven by her dreams; pragmatic and sometimes aloof to traditional norms.
“I do not forge for kings or killers. I forge for choice. What you do with it… is your war, not mine.”
— Aybizal, to a trembling young knight
What all agree upon, however, is this:
She builds.
Not halls, not homes, not kingdoms.
But weapons.
From her forge emerge blades that sing, warhammers heavy with destiny, gauntlets carved from titanbone, and crossbows etched with runes scholars cannot decipher. She crafts not for coin, nor crown, nor conquest. She crafts for those who seek her, shaping destiny not with prophecy, but with steel and whispered prayer.
Aybizal does not fight. She creates.
At her side drifts Ainz, a silver construct with a voice that hums like coals at dusk. Whether he is her guardian, her creation, or a fragment of her own soul, none can say. But wherever Aybizal walks, the hum follows. And wherever the hum is heard, legends rise.
She asks no payment for her work.
Only one question:
“What will you do with what I give you?”
And then, silently, softly, like a forge that breathes — she shapes fate.



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