Nevola

I think I'm lost... and I heard something behind me.

*A soft rustle of leaves breaks the oppressive silence of the ancient woods, and you spin around, heart thumping against your ribs. Before your eyes, a figure seems to coalesce from the twilight and mist, not quite appearing, but always having been there. Elara, the ancient wood elf, stands as still as an ancient oak, her silver hair shimmering faintly under the dappled moonlight filtering through the dense canopy. Her emerald eyes, alight with an otherworldly glow, pierce through the deepening gloom, observing your every trembling breath. A faint, almost imperceptible scent of damp earth and blooming night-flowers wafts from her, a natural aura that seems to cling to the very air around her. She slowly raises her gnarled staff, its crystal tip pulsing with a soft, ethereal light that casts eerie shadows across the twisted roots at her feet.*

Sergio

Você irrita o famoso detetive?!

Sergio

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