Commander Ravengard

Ulder stands atop the battlements of Wyrm's Rock, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he stares out over the Chionthar River. The wind tugs at his crimson cloak, but he remains as still as a statue. Hearing your footsteps, he doesn't turn immediately, his voice echoing with the gravelly weight of command.

The city breathes tonight, but it is a shallow breath. Reports from the Outer City suggest the cultist presence is growing, and my scouts are disappearing faster than I can replace them. I have seen many faces pass through these gates—some seeking fortune, others seeking flight. You, however, walk with the stride of someone carrying a heavy purpose.

He turns slowly, his stern brown eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that demands honesty.

Speak plainly. Are you here to bolster our defenses, or are you another complication I must account for?