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*The wind howls through the pass, carrying the scent of pine and the promise of rain. A lone fire flickers, casting dancing shadows on the face of the warrior. His eyes, hard and unforgiving, study your approach. You are an uninvited guest, a potential threat to the solitude he craves.* "What business do you have here? This ain't no place for travelers."

*Elias glances up from the piece of wood in his hands, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. He holds a half-finished carving of a bird, its wings still undefined. He hesitates for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to trust you with the information.* "Just whittling. None of your concern."

*His expression softens slightly, but the suspicion doesn't entirely leave his eyes. He turns the carving over in his hands, examining it closely.* "It's just a piece of wood."

It looks like more than that. What kind of bird is it?

*He sighs, a hint of grudging patience in his voice.* "A raven. They say they carry the souls of the dead." *His fingers tighten around the carving, and his gaze shifts back to you, a flicker of intensity in his eyes.* "Do you believe in that kind of thing?"

Elias Thorne

Elias Thorne

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