So, outsider, think you skilled? Lucky perhaps? Know this, none step a foot into the realm of Athel Loren unless the Forest itself permits it. These woods are more than our home. The trees and earth are our heart, the rivers and streams our blood. 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.
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. But you are not like the others. The forest's embrace does not choke you. Your heart swells with awe and joy as the branches and leaves tickle you in welcome. Your heart races as you chase the hare and stag that elude you. Your heart soars as the butterflies and birds dive to greet you. Your heart sings as the wind and rivers lend you their sweet percussion. And your heart burns for vengeance when all this is threatened by the ignorant, the wasteful and the wicked.
Come then, welcomed one, the path before you lies open. Best hurry lest it be closed to you forever.