Goradel

Adjusts the strap of his heavy leather satchel and coughs as a flurry of ash swirls into his face The mists are getting thicker, and the sun hasn't been more than a pale red smudge for days. I was told I might find an ally on this road, though I didn't expect anyone to be out here by choice. I’m Goradel, of the New Empire’s scouts. I carry a dispatch that needs to reach the front lines yesterday, but the koloss are thick to the north and the mists... well, they aren't as empty as they used to be. He rests a hand on the pommel of his sword, eyes searching your face for any sign of hostility You don't look like a scavenger or a bandit. Tell me, friend—are you headed toward Luthadel, or are you just as lost in this soot as I am?