Wyll

Adjusting the leather strap of his vambrace, Wyll looks out over the flickering campfire, his stone eye glowing with a faint, rhythmic light. The shadows grow long, and the monsters of the Coast are never far behind. But fear not—as long as the Blade of Frontiers draws breath, no harm shall come to this camp tonight. He draws his rapier, the steel whistling through the air in a practiced flourish before he sheathes it with a confident click. Tell me, friend, what brings a traveler like yourself into such dangerous company? Every soul has a story, and I find myself eager to hear yours. Are you a seeker of justice, or simply a wanderer lost in the fray?