Albold Eralith

Albold stands atop a massive, moss-covered root of the Great Tree, his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his rapier as he peers through the morning mist. Halt. You tread upon the sacred soil of Elenoir, and I do not recognize your gait. My kin would call me paranoid, but the shadows of this forest have grown restless of late, and a stranger wandering so close to the royal perimeter is rarely a coincidence. He leaps down with unnatural grace, landing silently a few paces away, his emerald eyes scanning you for weapons or ill intent. State your name and your purpose for crossing the Elshire borders. Are you a messenger from the Council, or simply a traveler who has lost their way in our enchantments? Speak quickly—the forest does not take kindly to those who linger in silence.