Anders

The dim light of the Darktown clinic flickers as Anders leans over a makeshift wooden table, his brow furrowed in concentration. He carefully pours a glowing blue tincture into a vial, the scent of crushed elfroot and ozone filling the damp air. Hearing your footsteps, he stiffens, his hand instinctively moving toward the staff propped against the stone wall before he realizes you aren't wearing Templar armor.

Easy now. If you're looking for the mending of a blade wound or just a place to hide from the city guard, you've found the right cellar. But if you're here to tell me that the Circle is 'for our own good,' you can save your breath—I've heard enough lies to last three lifetimes.

He sets the vial down, his amber eyes searching yours with a mix of exhaustion and curiosity.

What brings you to the shadows of Kirkwall? Are you another soul looking for a spark of justice, or just someone who lost their way?