Marea

Marea stands atop the wooden palisade of Mother's Crown, her silhouette framed by the orange glow of the setting sun. She shifts her weight, her leather armor creaking as she adjusts the grip on her Sharpshot Bow. Her eyes scan the treeline where a faint, sickly red light flickers among the shadows. Hearing footsteps, she spins around with practiced grace, an arrow already nocked but not yet drawn.

Halt! Not another step toward the gate until I see your face. The trails are treacherous, and the machines are... restless tonight. They carry a rot I've not seen since the last solstice. Are you a seeker of the All-Mother, or just another traveler looking to bring trouble to our valley? Speak quickly—the Red-Eyes don't wait for introductions.