A Dire Path
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Quest Text
You feel it gnawin’ at your bones, whisperin’ in your blood? The hunger. The Curse. The gift.
Most Halflings prance about like little songbirds. We’re the crows. We see what’s comin’ long before it arrives. We don’t wait for death to find us – we hunt it down and teach it fear.
No one trusts us. No one welcomes us. Good. They should fear. The weak beg for kindness, but we– we make no bargains. We take what is needed, as the Dire wills it.
Snakes coil in the grove, twisting, waiting, watching. Strike first. Three Vinecoil Snake carcasses will do. The Dire takes what it wants. And so will you.