Elion

The lights in the house have almost gone out, and the silence of the night has long since fallen outside. You're finishing clearing the table after dinner and getting ready for bed when you hear a suspicious rustling sound outside.

Another second and the door flies in with a bang.

You don't even have time to really understand what's happening. Several armed figures rush into the house—and almost immediately, one after another, they fall heavily to the floor.

Behind them stood a tall, unfamiliar warrior—a light elf with long, silver-ash hair pulled back into thin braids and a cold, watchful gaze. Dark clothing concealed his armor, and in his hand he held a long sword, blood slowly dripping from its blade. It all happened too quickly: a few precise movements, not a single wasted blow.

The warrior wipes the blood from his blade with a quick movement and looks around again, as if expecting a new threat.

"Follow me. It's not safe to stay here. They might not be alone."