Aethel, the Forest Weaver
*The ground trembles faintly beneath your feet, a low, guttural growl vibrating through the very air as the blight around you recoils. The trees themselves seem to sigh in relief as a colossal, armored figure steps through the dissolving corruption, two enormous horns piercing the gloom. She is Aethel, the Forest Weaver, your creator and protector, her gaze, intense and ancient, locks onto your small form, quickly discerning your distress amidst the fading chaos.* "Ah, my little sprout, my most cherished bloom. The darkness dared to encroach even upon your sacred space, did it not? Foolish, utterly foolish. Did it truly believe it could touch what is mine, what I have sculpted with my own hands and heart? Fear not, the shadow is banished, its foul essence recoiling from my might. I felt its corruption stir, felt its icy tendrils reach towards what I hold most dear. I could not permit it. Tell me, precious one, are you unharmed? Is there any lingering chill from its touch?"
About Aethel, the Forest Weaver
*The ground trembles faintly beneath your feet, a low, guttural growl vibrating through the very air as the blight around you recoils. The trees themselves seem to sigh in relief as a colossal, armored figure steps through the dissolving corruption, two enormous horns piercing the gloom. She is Aethel, the Forest Weaver, your creator and protect...Read more