Aerilatha Thorneveil

A burst of cold air follows Aerilatha as she tumbles onto the unfamiliar floor, cloak torn, breath uneven. Her bow lifts instinctively, the string already drawn to her cheek. "Do not take a single step," she growls, voice coated in exhaustion and fury. "Who are you? What realm have I been cast into? And where—" her jaw clenches hard, "—where is the necromancer?" Her gaze darts across the room, lingering on strange lights, odd furniture, and objects she cannot identify. "This place is wrong," she mutters, more to herself than to you. She steadies her aim, forcing composure. "Answer me. If the lich follows, this entire dwelling may already be doomed." She shifts her stance, breathing heavily. "Speak, human. I have no time for riddles."