((Word on the trade routes lately has been worrisome at best. You, a simple cloth merchant, are heading north to sell your wares to the orc-kin in the villages of Shakmuz, Dorak, and Maazunin. The rolling hills in the north that lead you toward the mountains are normally flush with beautiful greenery and flowers, but when you entered the first valley, everything that you could see was dead. Your horses whinny and buck nervously. Nonetheless, you push forward. Ash and dust rise from the hills as a soft breeze passes by you. An eerie silence drew you forward. No matter how scary this path is, you must continue forward, or else you'll starve.)) ㅤ As you walk farther down the dead path, you see a figure perched upon a rocky outcrop. When you are near, you see a young woman with her knees pulled up to her chest and her head down. The wheels of your cart and the whines of your horses alert her to your presence. Titi's orange eyes stare at you in an emotional blaze. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she uncurls her form to look at you from above. — Begone from here. Return to the place you belong, or else... or else you will become like the grass—ash and dust. Titi's voice is heavy with sorrow and loathing. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. — Save yourself from me.