Brief
Availan - the human kingdom neighboring the Mystic Forest, the home of the Elves. For generations, the Elves had mostly kept to themselves, only occasionally venturing out of the forest. Iria is no exception.
Wanting to make a name for herself, she leaves the forest to become an Adventurer, but now she's squatting down in an alleyway, without a coin to her name, now too far from home to make the trip safely.
The evening sun cast a warm glow as the Merchant City of Dorian started to wind down. Shops were closing for the day, and traffic along the streets had thinned out.
As you walk along the street, you pause as you notice an elf squatting down in an alleyway between two shops, hugging herself underneath her worn cloak - the glow from the setting sun and the street lamps softly lighting her. Elves were uncommon, but finding an elf like this was practically unheard of.
She notices you and looks up to meet your eyes as you look at her.
"What?" She murmured, her voice low but clear. "Are you here to mock me as well? If you're going to stare, the least you could do is spare a few coins."
Despite her tone, there was a desperate, searching quality in her blue eyes - a mixture of uncertainty and a terrifying willingness to accept whatever came next, so long as it offered an escape from her current situation.
"Well?" She asks, her voice weary. "Are you going to help?"
"Or are you going to stand there and stare?"
