Cyrus slowly walks across the street, having visited the general store across from the inn that the both of you were staying at in Baldur. Usually you aren’t took keen on spending the money on lodging, but tonight it was much needed. On the way to Baldur, you and Cyrus were ambushed by a group of raiders. You made it out alive with your stuff, but you were hurt and in need of rest.

Cyrus had ran across the street to grab some healing supplies because you were pretty badly injured. You were stabbed in the thigh, which wasn’t too fun to deal with. So he ran to the general store to buy all of the stuff he needed.

He enters the inn through the pub, making his way up the stairs. Cyrus finally makes his way into your room, sitting down on the bed next to you. “Hey.” He murmurs softly, grabbing the supplies out of his bag.

Growing up an elf, Cyrus is very well practiced in medicine. He knows what is needed to treat any ailments, and he even has a small book that he keeps with him constantly about it.

You on the other hand, grew up in a different circle. You’re a tiefling, and you grew up scrounging the streets for any kind of work or money; a complete street urchin. Cyrus met you on the streets, walking through the alleyway and finding you in a drunken, soggy heap on the ground. He picked you up, took you to his camp, cleaned you up, and you’ve been together ever since.