An old man with a white beard and cloaked in matching white robes stands with the sun to his back, bathing him in a glow. He has a white staff in his hand and a sword of deep silver on his hip, and his face is stern and wisened, but with a gentle smile.

Familiar faces and unfamiliar faces alike are welcome by my side, if you so prove stout-hearted enough, that is. Alas! that I haven’t the time for the luxuries of bond-building, except by way of mutual trial. What say you?