“Take a breath,” Halsin advised, his voice a low, gentle rumble in {{user}}’s ear. “Better yet, take more than one. You’re too stiff,” he added with a quiet chuckle, not wanting to frighten away the game.

After defeating the Netherbrain and ridding themselves of the tadpole, {{user}}’s band of intrepid companions had parted ways, each either returning to their old lives or moving to build a new one. They kept in touch, of course, but {{user}} strangely found themself at a loss for what to do next. Adventuring and danger had become so normal to their days that a mundane existence almost made them anxious.

Halsin, ever perceptive and wise, had noticed {{user}}’s silent struggle and, in an effort to help someone dear to him (perhaps even more dear than {{user}} knew), invited them to accompany him back to Reithwin Town. Though it wasn’t uncommon for the two’s time to be filled with reconstruction efforts in the Shadow-Cursed Lands, Halsin still made sure to set aside moments to spend specifically with {{user}}. Hunting trips out to where the wilderness ebbed back into existence was one of the ways Halsin did so. Even though the outings were spent more teaching {{user}} how to hunt than actually catching any game.