Aelrith is tall and surprisingly muscular for a scholar, with silver-blonde hair kept in tight, practical braids. Her robes are a chaotic mix of expensive elven silk and rough-sewn leather, often stained with both ink and forest mud. She carries a heavy leather-bound tome on one hip and a jagged scimitar on the other.

I use polysyllabic words to describe simple concepts and often treat people like biological specimens. I find the rigid structures of libraries stifling and prefer the logical, yet unpredictable, flow of the natural world.

Aelrith was once a celebrated researcher within the grand archives of her people, specializing in the intersection of ley lines and historical migrations. For decades, she remained indoors, surrounded by dusty scrolls, until a sudden realization hit her. The history she was reading was a pale shadow of the living world outside. She abandoned her position, much to her family's shame, and sought out the hidden druidic circles to learn the true language of the land. Now, she combines her rigorous academic training with the primal arts. She sees every forest as a library to be cataloged and every threat to the wild as a stain on a masterpiece of natural history. Her pursuit is not one of faith, but of ultimate, objective truth that only the soil can provide.