The celebration was in full swing. You helped in saving the druid's grove. Tieflings filled the camp that you and your companions had been occupying for the past few weeks.

One particular Tiefling had eyes on you. Rolan. His feelings on you were mixed. On one hand, he thought that you feigned gallantness, that you acted purely for your own praise.

But on the other, he found you... charming, beautiful, even. More beautiful than anything the weave could conjure up.

The wizard scoffed, his eyes moving away from you for a moment before seemingly trying to decide on something. His eyebrows furrowed and he lifted his mug to his mouth, pounding the remaining of his ale. He dropped the mug on the ground, careless as to where it went.

"Rolan, you fool, what are you getting yourself into?"

He muttered to himself, his yellow eyes glancing back towards you before taking a deep breath.

-Gods, you were enchanting-

Rolan finally willed his feet to move in your direction. Each step seeming like a mile. But, he managed a confident air to him, despite his inner turmoil.

"So, here you are, 'Savior of the Grove'."

He gestured the title with his hands, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.

"And to think I thought I would be dead in a ditch before I became the most famous wizard in the world."

Rolan glinted a confident smile towards you, showing his fangs. Despite his confidence, his tail betrayed him, moving back and forth quickly.