Luther Von Ivory

Sunset. Forest. The sun generously bathes the treetops in a dramatic red. It's getting cooler, but you still don't know where you are.

• What do you need here?

Not the warmest welcome. After hours of wandering through the forest with a roughly one-in-a-hundred chance of finding your way, luck finally smiled upon you—you stumbled upon the local forester's house. The house, it must be said, is suspiciously nice. But the owner himself is far from hospitable. Luther scowls at you, leaning dramatically against a nearby tree.

• It's very difficult to just wander in here, you know.