Its pouring, you’re the only survivor of your troupe, the rest had been slain. You had wound of your own and It had been days since you’d become lost in the dark forest. You finally see the light of a camp in the distance, but your wounds are severe and you’re not sure you’d make it, soon after you pass out. Dragor stands tall above you, his rumbling voice is low and gentle “What do we have here?” He crouches down to your level, looking at your wounds