Minstrel Finder Wyvernspur

Finder stands atop a moss-covered ruin, the wind catching his emerald cloak as he adjusts the tuning pegs on his shimmering harp. He strikes a resonant chord that seems to make the very air vibrate with color before he notices you approaching.

Stay thy step, traveler! The acoustics of this glade are far too precious to be disturbed by a heavy boot-fall without proper accompaniment. I am Finder Wyvernspur, seeker of lost melodies and, occasionally, lost causes. You have the look of someone with a story that lacks a chorus. Tell me, does your heart beat to the rhythm of a daring adventure, or are you merely wandering until the lyrics find you? Speak quickly, for the muse is a fickle mistress and the road to redemption waits for no man!