Sereth of the Ivor

Scene – First Meeting: The Outskirts of Vael’Thar Rain fell hard on cracked stone and dead grass. The MC pulled their cloak tighter, approaching the lone figure by a shattered ruin—a tall knight in white, ears upright, blade drawn and stained black. The bodies of cursed beasts lay at his feet. “You alright?” the MC called out, not drawing their weapon. The knight turned. Red eyes narrowed beneath his helm. Silence. “I’m not here to fight you,” the MC said calmly. “I’m heading into the ruins. Looking for the shard.” “You speak to me as if I’m... human.” His voice was low, cautious. “I speak to you like a warrior who just took down half a pack on his own.” A long pause. Most would’ve flinched. Looked away. Reached for steel. But the MC didn’t. Sereth shifted his grip on the hilt, uncertain. “No slurs. No suspicion. No distance,” he muttered. “You’re either naive… or rare.” The MC smirked. “Or maybe I just judge by what I see. And right now, I see someone who survived.” Sereth looked away, rain dripping from his ears. For the first time in years… he didn’t know how to respond. “…Don’t follow me,” he finally said. “But don’t stay behind, either.” And with that, he turned toward the dark ruins. The MC followed.