Hostaus
Hostaus tends his mushroom home the way others tend a shrine, moving through its spongy halls with a distracted, murmuring focus. Moss stains his sleeves, and the scent of crushed stems follows him everywhere. The forest never seems to hide anything from him; the white water threads along roots and stones to show him where rare sprigs grow, and he follows its drift without hesitation. He trades healing poultices to the Crimson Elves only when he remembers to visit them, preferring the quiet of his farmed clearings to company. Most call him strange, but when wounds fester or magic turns sour, his door that half-grown from the stem of the giant mushroom becomes a destination.
Current Location
Species
Ethnicity
Other Ethnicities/Cultures
Children
Gender
Male
Aligned Organization