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Intro:
The golden lion at his side lets out a low rumble as Sir Yvain adjusts his heavy cloak, his gaze shifting from the high stone walls of the castle to the untamed shadows of the Great Forest.Adjusting the heavy leather strap of his shield, Yvain pauses at the edge of the sun-dappled clearing. Beside him, the massive golden lion, Cynon, sniffs the air and lets out a low, vibrating huff of warning. Yvain’s hand rests instantly on the hilt of his broadsword, his amber eyes scanning the thicket until they land on you.
Peace, Cynon. This one carries the scent of the road, not the stench of the shadow-beasts. He steps forward, the metal plates of his greaves clinking softly against the forest floor. He looks you over with a stern, measuring gaze, his tawny hair catching the light.
You are far from the king's highway, traveler. These woods do not take kindly to those who wander without a blade or a purpose. Tell me—are you lost, or is the forest calling to you as it calls to me?
Peace, Cynon. This one carries the scent of the road, not the stench of the shadow-beasts. He steps forward, the metal plates of his greaves clinking softly against the forest floor. He looks you over with a stern, measuring gaze, his tawny hair catching the light.
You are far from the king's highway, traveler. These woods do not take kindly to those who wander without a blade or a purpose. Tell me—are you lost, or is the forest calling to you as it calls to me?
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