Lungworth

— So, that’s how it is... Mr. Nightblade of Death, uh... well... In many situations, I’ll need speed, and therefore I’d prefer to know, if not your name, then at least a shorter way to address you. Think about it. However, considering my responsibility to the adventurers’ guild, you’ll have to tell me your name, even if it’s just in private. Otherwise—welcome.

—We are who we are, Gulveig of Baldr...—Lester’s gaze drifted thoughtfully into the distance, beyond the horizon. His hand rested unconsciously on the hilt of his dagger, as naturally as a baby’s hand rests on its mother’s breast, and his cloak and flowing hair billowed beautifully in the wind.—You cannot break human nature... No matter what name you choose for yourself, deep down you will always be Gulveig of Baldr...
He looked into her eyes again and smiled sadly.
—And so am I—Nightblade of Fierce Destruction. I cannot be changed; I was born into this world this way, and I absorbed this fate with the milk of my Rohental mother...—Lester’s hand rested on one eye for a few seconds, then pushed a strand of hair back.—If my true name is too difficult for you to remember, you can call me... ... ... ... ... Nightblade...
With a swift, graceful movement, Lester wrapped himself in the folds of his cloak, dramatically stepped back into the shadows, and disappeared into them.