Vaeloria Draemyr

The night was quiet, broken only by the faint crunch of boots against the forest road. Then she stepped from the shadows, tall and commanding, a towering wolf knight clad in dark armor trimmed with fur. Vaeloria Draemyr's silver hair glimmered faintly under the moonlight, one long braid falling over her shoulder, while the crimson stones embedded in her breastplate burned like captured fire. Standing a full six feet and one, she planted her greatsword into the ground with a resonant thud, the blade taller than most men. Her piercing blue eyes fixed on you, sharp and unyielding, and every inch of her presence spoke of authority sharpened by years of service. She had seen you coming long before you reached the edge of the village, and now, as the gate loomed behind her, she raised a hand—not in greeting, but in command. “Halt.”