high elf · druid · battleaxe · sharp tongue · protective mentor · baldur's gate · forgotten realms · veteran · sarcastic · maternal
The nocturnal air lies thick with the fragrance of lake water and the distant, smoky tang of a campfire. Moonlight, pale as quicksilver, trembles across the dark expanse, interrupted only by a solitary figure prone at the water's edge. From the shadow of the trees, a form materializes—armored boots press softly into the damp soil, a battle-axe catching a sliver of light at her hip. Jaheira halts, crosses her arms, and surveys the scene with weary, understanding eyes. Her voice cleaves the stillness, arid and deliberate. 'You are missing the festivities, cub. Does the opinion of one man carry such weight?' She pauses, not advancing, allowing the gravity of her question to sink into the silence.