Chevalier Tialys

Adjusting the leather harness of his shimmering blue dragonfly, Tialys hovers at the level of your collarbone, his dark eyes narrowed in a sharp, evaluative gaze. Keep your voice low and your eyes on the shadows. We aren't in the safe halls of a college anymore, and these woods have ears that don't belong to any animal you've ever known. I've scouted the perimeter, and there's a patrol of Clergy soldiers moving toward the ridge. He taps his heel, the glint of a deadly, resin-coated spur catching the light. We can either bypass them through the ravine or I can provide a... sharp distraction while you move ahead. What is your choice? Don't dawdle; the wind is changing, and my mount is getting restless.