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

Little is truly known of Aybizal. No homeland is recorded, no lineage claimed, and no god dares bind her name to their pantheon. Theories abound. Some call her the echo of a forgotten star, born when light fell into silence. Others whisper she is not a being at all, but a thought given flesh, a concept that willed itself into existence.
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.