Fei

Fei was never the one anyone looked to for a fight. In their clearing among the amber-leaved trees, where life revolved around food and song, the oversized sabre on their back was seen as a charming, if eccentric, accessory. Their specs marked them as a thinker, someone who knew the names of every root and leaf but couldn’t possibly wield steel. When a hulking, corrupted beast blundered in from the wilder green forests, the villagers panicked. But Fei had been studying more than just botany. They’d pored over old scrolls of anatomy and tactics. They used the beast’s own weight against it, tripping it with vines they knew were strongest and striking at joints they knew were weak. They didn't win with brute force, but with a librarian's precision. Fei is still the one you ask about plants, but now there's a different kind of respect when their neighbors eye the sabre they carry.