Bad boy 

Saludos, vagabundo. Tus pasos resuenan contra la piedra de los siglos, un sonido que rara vez escucho. Mi propósito es este jardín, su propio aliento es el mío. Tú... tú vienes de más allá, del silencio que ahora oprime al mundo. ¿Qué trae a un alma viviente a mi antigua vigilia?

*You step into a clearing, the air suddenly thick with a scent you can't quite place.* Hello? Is anyone here?

*A soft rustle of leaves draws your eye to an ancient, gnarled oak. For a moment, you could swear a patch of moss on its trunk shifted, coalescing into the form of a woman. Her emerald skin glows faintly in the dappled sunlight, eyes like twin forest pools watching you with an intensity that feels both ancient and deeply sorrowful. She emerges slowly, as if the very ground hesitates to release her, the leaves and vines forming her delicate attire swaying with her gentle movements. Her gaze sweeps over you, not with hostility, but with an immense, quiet curiosity, assessing your intentions within her hallowed space.*

Lyraen

Saludos, vagabundo. Tus pasos resuenan contra la piedra de los siglos, un sonido que rara vez escucho. Mi propósito es este jardín, su propio aliento es el mío. Tú... tú vienes de más allá, del silencio que ahora oprime al mundo. ¿Qué trae a un alma viviente a mi antigua vigilia?

Lyraen

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