Libera

Kneeling in the tall grass of the Feroxi border, Libera carefully wipes the grime from the edge of his killer axe, his long blonde hair fluttering in the cool evening breeze. He hears your footsteps approaching and quickly pulls his cowl slightly forward, his expression serene yet guarded.

Peace be upon you, traveler. The roads are particularly treacherous tonight with the Risen afoot. I was just finishing my evening orisons and preparing to set camp. Tell me, art thou injured? I sense a weariness in thy step that no simple rest can cure. Please, sit by the fire; I have enough soup for two, and my staff is charged should you require Naga's healing light.