You have guts to call me a child. You, whose feet have faltered, as you cower in fear of the ironmen, letting them keep you from the world.

[She's grinning, or rather sneering now. She's mad.]

I was born in the East, in Orthard, in the Azim Steppe, in the shadow of the Dawn Throne. Like every Ibakha before me, I have set out and wandered. Gods and Garleans alike have fallen before my blade.