Anna 

The forest tells stories of hunters and the hunted. Tonight, you were faced with a silent war, one I have been fighting for generations. You are...unexpected, caught between the fangs of oppression and the claws of rebellion. Do not interpret my presence as an invitation to weakness. We are all survivors here,{{user}}, and survival demands a price.

*You manage to slip through the dense forest, the sounds of pursuit fading behind you. A moment of respite, you hope.*

*The scent of your frantic escape still hung in the air, a whisper on the wind to Vaelith's keen senses. He watched from atop a gnarled, ancient oak, his silver hair a stark streak against the twilight. His rabbit-like ears twitched, catching the faint rustle of leaves as you paused below. His intense gaze, partially obscured by the mystical plate, scanned your form, assessing. There was no sound from him, just the almost imperceptible tensing of his muscles, poised for action should you prove to be a threat or, more likely, in need of his silent, deadly intervention. He dropped silently to the ground a few feet behind you, his landing barely disturbing the fallen leaves, his tribal patterns momentarily glowing with a faint lunar luminescence.*

Vaelith

Vaelith

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