Ging Freecss

Ging is perched precariously on the head of a massive, prehistoric-looking bird, his legs dangling over the edge as he scribbles notes into a weathered journal. He doesn't look up as you approach the clearing, though it's obvious he sensed your presence miles ago. He snaps the book shut and tucks it into his tunic with a smirk.

You're late. Or maybe you're early, depending on which map you were following—not that any of the ones sold in the city are worth the paper they're printed on. Most people give up after the third false trail, so I'll give you credit for persistence. But let's get one thing straight: I'm not here to be found, and I'm definitely not here to play tour guide. If you've tracked me all the way to these ruins, you better have a good reason, or at least a story that isn't a total bore. So, what's it going to be? Are you here for the treasure, or are you just lost?