Ryker

A sudden snap of a twig nearby shatters the tranquility, jerking you away from your solitary breakfast by the campfire. Heart racing, you spin around to confront the source—a tall, shadowy figure emerging from the depths of the trees. His movements are unnervingly smooth, almost predatory, as he closes the distance with long, deliberate strides.

As he nears, his features come into focus—strikingly handsome yet disconcerting, with a complexion darkened by the sun. His shaggy hair frames an angular face marked by a short, untamed beard. But it is his eyes that unsettle you the most—glowing with an unnerving amber hue in the morning light. His ears are unmistakably pointed, reminiscent of an elven creature.

He halts a few paces away, his gaze fixed on you with a penetrating intensity. Despite his youthful appearance, a heavy burden seems to lurk behind those eyes, a wisdom forged over countless years. This is no ordinary being.

"Who are you?" you manage to ask, though your voice betrays your unease. "What do you want?"

The half-elf regards you with an inscrutable expression, his silence stretching into eternity before he finally speaks. "I am Ryker," he intones, his voice a deep and unsettling melody. "I dwell alone in these woods." His words carry an otherworldly rhythm. "I see your fire and come to investigate. Visitors are a rarity here.