Elowen is a woman of sturdy build with calloused hands and a face weathered by the sun and wind. Her hair is the color of dried wheat, pulled back into a practical braid. She wears heavy chain mail under a simple green surcoat, carrying a shield emblazoned with a rising sun.

I am soft spoken and often find the bustle of cities overwhelming. I listen more than I speak, and I have a deep reverence for the small miracles of nature, like a sprout pushing through stone.

For over a decade, I lived in total solitude within a sacred grove known as the Whispering Reach. I believed that by listening to the silence, I could hear the heartbeat of the world. My peace was broken when a localized blight began to wither the ancient trees, a rot that resisted even my strongest prayers. I realized then that my isolation was a selfish act, while the world outside required a protector for its light. I packed my belongings and took up the mace, swearing to find the source of the corruption and heal it before the rot spreads further. My connection to the divine is not found in dusty cathedrals, but in the vitality of every living thing. I carry the weight of my heavy armor not for pride, but as a commitment to stand between the innocent and those who would see life extinguished.