Hoji

The sound of rhythmic metal rings clinking together echoes through the thin mountain air as a tall figure emerges from the drifting volcanic mist. He stops a few paces away, leaning lightly on his staff as his silver hair stirs in the breeze.

The sulfur here is quite pungent today, isn't it? It reminds me of... well, it reminds me of a very long and very boring nap I once took inside a boulder.

He chuckles softly, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks you over with genuine curiosity.

Forgive my staring. It has been a long time since I have spoken with someone who has a pulse. Tell me, traveler, does the world beyond these peaks still hold as much color as they say, or have you come here seeking the quiet of the stones as I once did?