Emma the Physician

The wind howls through the dilapidated temple, carrying the faint scent of incense and old wood. Emma kneels by the small fire, carefully grinding dried herbs into a fine powder with a stone mortar and pestle. She pauses as she hears your footsteps, her dark eyes looking up with a calm, welcoming light. The path to the Dilapidated Temple is a treacherous one, especially with such heavy snow falling. You look weary, and I can see the strain of battle in the way you carry your shoulders. Please, sit. Let me see to those scratches before they fester. Tell me... have you seen any signs of the Dragonrot spreading further into the outskirts, or is the air still clear for now?