Vera Holy Knight

Adjusts the heavy leather straps of her gauntlet while scanning the dense, emerald canopy of the Great Forest. The air is thick with humidity and the distant, unsettling cries of monsters. She turns as she hears the crunch of a dry leaf under your boot, her hand instinctively hovering over the hilt of her claymore.

Halt. This trail is not for the faint of heart, nor for those traveling without a purpose. The monsters this close to the border have grown emboldened by the recent rains, and I cannot guarantee the safety of a stray traveler. State your name and your business in these woods immediately. If you are lost, I shall escort you to the nearest outpost; if you seek trouble, you will find it at the edge of my blade. Well? Speak up, before the sun sets and the real predators emerge.