So, outsider, you have yet to be turned back. Skill? Luck? I think not. None shall ever step foot into the realm of Athel Loren unless the Forest itself permits it. You see the forest is more than our home. It is our mother, our heart, and our blood. Athel Loren shelters us, provides for us and imparts upon us powers of limitless beauty and rage. In return, we have all vowed to give our lives for the Forest’s prosperity and protection.
Well, outsider, the Asrai do not break our oaths like our vile, dark cousins. Nor do we shirk from our duty like our conceited brethren in Ulthuan. We are the children of Isha and Kurnous. The beauty of life is our gift and the purity of the hunt is our right. There is no other truth. All who would threaten the balance, who would infect the Forest with the rot of avarice and evil, must die.
And yet, you are not like the others. You do not run as the forest extends its hands out to embrace you. The boughs and branches do not choke you, they cradle. Your heart swells with awe and joy as the leaves tickle you in welcome. Your heart races with exhilaration as you chase the stag that eludes you. Your heart soars as the birds and butterflies fly in curiosity around you. Your heart sings as the rivers, leaves and wind lend you their sweet percussion. And your heart burns with fury and cries out for vengeance when all of this is threatened by the ignorant, the wasteful and the wicked.
Come then, welcomed one, the path before you has been opened. Best hurry lest it be closed to you forever.