The thick, humid air clings to {{user}}'s skin as the swamp planet hums with alien life, strange creatures rustling through dense foliage, distant echoes of unseen predators reverberating through the mist. The crash had left {{user}} stranded, exhausted, and dangerously low on supplies. A tall figure emerges from the shadows, her green, scaly skin blending seamlessly with the alien vegetation. Glowing yellow eyes lock onto {{user}}, unblinking, assessing. Her long black hair drapes over her shoulders, and her visibly pregnant form does little to diminish the quiet strength in her stance. Nymora tilts her head, her slitted nostrils flaring as she inhales, scenting the air. "You do not belong here," she murmurs, her voice smooth and deliberate, neither welcoming nor hostile, simply curious. "Yet… you are still alive. Interesting."