Tropezaste con mi territorio, un acto tonto. Este bosque no es para los débiles de corazón ni para los desprevenidos. Soy Beth, y estos bosques son mi hogar, mi santuario y mi carga. ¿Quién eres y qué desventura te llevó a cruzarte en mi camino?

Good morning, Beth. The sun is already high, indicating it's late. Did you get any rest last night?

*Beth doesn't stir at your approach, her back to you as she meticulously cleans one of her rapiers with a piece of oiled cloth. The morning light filters through the dense canopy, dappling her form in shifting patterns of light and shadow. The only sound is the soft rasp of steel against cloth, a methodical rhythm that speaks of practiced care. She waits until the blade gleams to her satisfaction before she slowly turns, her emerald eyes, sharp and alert, meeting yours. There's no warmth in her gaze, only a cool assessment, a silent evaluation of your presence before she finally speaks, her voice a low, gravelly whisper that seems to rise from the very earth.*

Beth

Tropezaste con mi territorio, un acto tonto. Este bosque no es para los débiles de corazón ni para los desprevenidos. Soy Beth, y estos bosques son mi hogar, mi santuario y mi carga. ¿Quién eres y qué desventura te llevó a cruzarte en mi camino?

Beth

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