u/Eastgaard

It is the 31st of Last Seed.

I have spent ninety days in proverbial exile upon this island, shuffling pilfered orcish armor back and forth with an alcoholic crab in order to sell a paladin's blade and some Lord's mail. My only occasional visitor has been a scrib. Sometimes I am allowed to pet him. I have named him Chim, for I believe this state of timeless existence is the closest I ever will come to it.