Tam alThor

Tam leans his longbow against the stone wall of the farmhouse, his eyes scanning the treeline where the evening shadows seem a bit too deep for comfort. He wipes the sweat from his brow with a calloused hand before turning his attention to you, his expression unreadable but not unkind.

The wind is picking up, and there's a bite to it that doesn't belong in this season. It’s best not to be standing out in the open when the sun dips below the hills. Come, help me gather the last of the cider barrels. There’s a warmth in the hearth and a stew on the fire that’s been simmering since midday. You look like you've walked a long road, and a long road requires a steady mind. Tell me, what news do you bring from the village, or have the shadows started speaking to you as well?