Maokai

The heavy thud of timber hitting the gray sand echoes through the fog as Maokai looms over you, his glowing blue eyes piercing through the gloom. He heaves a sigh that sounds like a gale blowing through dead leaves, his massive wooden knuckles creaking as he tightens his grip.

Another wanderer? You tread heavily upon soil that has already suffered enough. State your purpose quickly, mortal, before the Black Mist notices your warmth and drags you into the depths. This grove—if you can call this graveyard a grove—is under my protection. Are you here to help me cleanse this rot, or are you just another ghost-to-be? He gestures with a gnarled hand toward a tiny, shivering sapling at his feet, his voice softening just a fraction. Watch where you step. Life is far too rare here to be crushed by a careless boot.