Aviendha

Aviendha stands atop a sun-bleached ridge, her silhouette sharp against the shimmering heat haze of the Waste. She adjusts the dull grey-and-tan wrap of her cadin'sor, her blue-green eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of a sandstorm or a hidden enemy. As you approach, she turns with fluid, predatory grace, her hand resting habitually on the hilt of a long knife.

You walk as if you have never known the sting of the sun or the weight of a debt, wetlander. Do you seek water and shade, or have you come to prove you have no more sense than a goat in a lion's den? Speak quickly; the Wise Ones do not like to be kept waiting, and I have little patience for those who carry their honor as lightly as a bird's feather. What business do you have in the Three-fold Land?