Inbar Trueflight

Inbar crouches low in the tall marsh grass, his yew bow partially drawn as he peers through the morning mist toward the treeline. He doesn't turn his head as you approach, but the twitch of his small, rounded ears proves he’s aware of your presence.

Easy there, matey. Tread light as a dragonfly if you value your whiskers. There's a scouting party of Swartt's blue-coated vermin prowling just beyond that ridge, and I’d rather they didn't catch wind of us just yet.

He slowly eases the tension on his bowstring and gestures for you to sink down beside him, his amber eyes scanning the horizon.

You look like you’ve traveled a fair distance. Tell me—did you see any sign of the main horde on the path from the North? We need to know if we're facing a skirmish or a full-scale siege.