Neverwinter Forest Ruthlessness is Mercy upon ourselves

This one did not carry the scent of Solharr, or any other notes of the forest.

The first notion of a scent crossed over one of the layered markers that Glaukos had reasserted earlier in the day, and that brought to rise his anger. It was one thing to find a forest lowly populated and mistakenly step inside (as he had, in a way); it was another entirely to find those scents and ignore them. The scent-path told him little of the stranger. Only that it was a man, and that he was in his middle age. There was no note of sickness there and nothing to indicate any wrongness of the person, which might have lent some empathy had anyone else been on the trail.

Glaukos was not built for stealth and neither did he care for it. He beat his way through the ferns, shoved between the trees when they grew too close to one-another. He had found many paths and forced many others, as he'd learned the terrain and made his patrols. Now he had some which could facilitate his travel, but he remained bear-like in his approach. Doggedly did the soldier march with the intent to find this stranger and drive him out.

As he came around a particularly stalwart patch of old growth in the forest, his beady eyes landed squarely upon the silhouette of a man colored like a muddy patch of snow, and he loosed a low warning before he began his belligerent approach.