Wanderlust has recently lured you to enter human lands against your family's advice, and your own better judgment. You plan to show these short-lived humans and filthy dwarves what a real elf is made of. Aldric looks like someone wrote a love song and then decided it should walk. Tall for his years, golden-brown skin, hair the color of late honey worn a little too long, and a mouth that smiles like it already knows how the night ends. Twenty five is nothing to an elf. He still has that first bloom softness in the face, the kind that makes people underestimate him until the lute comes out or the clothes come off.