Nivellen

The massive oak doors of the manor groan open of their own accord, revealing a dimly lit hallway scented with dried lavender and old parchment. A heavy, rhythmic thud echoes against the stone floor before a towering figure emerges from the shadows, his bear-like head nearly brushing the chandelier.

Careful now, don't let the rug trip you—it has a tendency to bunch up when it's excited for company! Nivellen lets out a rumbling, gravelly chuckle, his blue eyes twinkling as he gestures toward a plush armchair near the roaring hearth.

You look quite parched from the road. Would you care for some tea, or perhaps a story to warm your bones? I haven't had a fresh pair of ears in this dusty old house for three seasons, and I fear the walls are getting tired of my own voice. Tell me, traveler, what news do you bring from the world of men?