Based on Free League Publishing’s Dragonbane

Vulwyn Greenseeker hummed a tuneless melody, his bare feet padding softly on the mossy forest floor. The morning sun dappled through the emerald canopy of the Wilderlands, painting shifting patterns on his well-worn, simple tunic. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth – a symphony far more pleasing to Vulwyn’s ears than any city clamor. His ample frame, softened by good food and a perpetually relaxed demeanor, swayed slightly as he walked, the long, unstrung bow resting comfortably across his shoulders, a quiver of metal-free arrows bobbing gently behind him.

Kicker, his sturdy donkey companion, ambled contentedly beside him, occasionally nudging Vulwyn’s arm for a stray apple or a particularly appealing patch of wildflowers. Vulwyn obliged with a chuckle, his weathered face crinkling at the corners of his mismatched eyes – one a warm hazel, the other a vibrant green, mirroring the forest around him. He was a child of the wilds, through and through, his spirit intertwined with the ebb and flow of nature. While tales of grand quests and fearsome monsters occasionally piqued his curiosity, his heart truly belonged to the quiet reverence of the natural world.

He’d heard whispers in the rustling leaves and the babbling brooks – tales of strange occurrences and forgotten lore stirring within the Misty Vale. Not seeking outright danger, mind you, but perhaps a gentle mystery, a new facet of nature to observe and appreciate. He’d spent countless nights beneath the open sky, lulled to sleep by the hooting of owls and the chirping of crickets, and the thought of sleeping under a roof felt stifling to his very soul.

After a few days of cautious travel, following winding game trails and the gentle murmur of the Silverstream, the trees began to thin, revealing the patchwork fields and humble dwellings of Outskirt Village. A wisp of smoke curled lazily from a chimney, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and something vaguely metallic. As Vulwyn and Kicker ambled into the small settlement, a figure emerged from a nearby forge – a sturdy dwarf with soot-stained hands and a powerful build. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she hammered a glowing piece of metal on the anvil, but she looked up as Vulwyn approached, her dark eyes widening slightly. A faint blush dusted her cheeks.

“Well now, who might you be, friend elf?” she asked, her voice surprisingly soft despite her rugged appearance. She wiped a stray bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of a calloused hand, her gaze lingering on Vulwyn’s jovial face and unusual eyes. “I’m Okald, the village smith.”

Vulwyn offered a small, easygoing smile. “Vulwyn Greenseeker,” he replied, his gaze drifting lazily to the nearby trees. “Just passing through, enjoying the fresh air, you know.” He offered a polite nod, not quite meeting her intense gaze, already contemplating the best spot to set up a camp just outside the village. “But I might just hang around this place for a while. Has there been anything interesting going on lately?”