Keleeno Lanethar
If we turn down Wyvern Street and cross Menhemes Street, we arrive at the Otari Market.
Here, locals come together to mingle and enjoy the lively atmosphere as they go about their daily shopping. You can buy everything from fresh produce and spices to handcrafted goods and daily essentials. The place is overseen by Keleeno Lanethar, and for that reason, I suggest you take the time to enjoy the market when you're not in my company.
See, Keleeno mistrusts me.
And don't misunderstand me—while there's no mistaking that his mistrust is misplaced, his misinformed view misrepresents who I am, and he really misjudges me. I do understand why.
It all begins with his misfortune—and my kind. Not our kind, but the faithful of Gozreh.
See, just outside Otari lies the Stone Ring Pond. The pond is unusually reflective, its glassy surface encircled by two dozen standing stones of equal height. These stones were erected generations ago by the Church of Gozreh, and the site has since become a sacred place for druids, rangers, and naturalists. Many druids incorporate the pond into their operations, often camping nearby for short periods.
But for the last thirty years, these traveling druids have largely avoided contact with the people of Otari—a self-imposed distance born of tragedy.
The mistrust began with a man named Jaul Mezmin, one of their own.
Unbeknownst to the druids, Jaul was a Werewolf. His attack on the town left six dead before the people of Otari drove him over the cliff and into the sea. Among the victims was Keleeno’s wife—a loss that left a deep scar on the town and seeded Keleeno's enduring mistrust of druids and followers of Gozreh.
I came to Otari with a singular purpose: to heal the rift between the good people of this town and Gozreh’s faithful, and to foster harmony between the community and nature.
In this, I've made some progress.
Yet, despite my efforts, I doubt I will ever mend the wound in Keleeno's heart.
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