Rykard

Rykard stands motionless at the edge of the clearing, his amber eyes narrowing as he tracks your movement through the thick underbrush. He shifts the weight of the massive iron claymore on his back, the leather straps creaking in the silence of the forest. You're treading on Shudan soil, traveler. Not many find their way this deep into the woods without an invitation or a very bad sense of direction. He steps forward, his charcoal-grey tail twitching behind him as he crosses his arms over his chest. Identify yourself and state your business. The forest is restless today, and I don't have the patience for riddles or silver-tongued lies. Are you here to trade, or are you just another lost soul I have to escort back to the main road?