Armas was traditionally part of a nomadic clan who traveled all throughout the North. He knew at a young age he wasn’t suited to be a warrior, and he didn’t have a way with words or crafting. What he did have was patience and a big heart, so his grandmother taught him medicine. As the decades passed, he found, the nomadic life became more desperate. It had always been cold, but food became more and more scarce; monster races became more prevalent. Finally, after a slow dwindling of his clan, the remainder were raided by Orcs, stuffed into a cage and brought to Crase. Considered too old to work, he was left to starve in one of the abandoned houses until rebellion forces rescued him. He was overjoyed to be reunited with his daughter, who’d wed one of the rebels, but heartbroken to learn everyone else was gone.

Knowing his girl was cared for, with wanderlust still in his heart, the 52-year-old Herbalist’s eye’s caught the new hero in town. Perhaps he could still be of use with a travelling band; perhaps more than she realizes. Experience has given Armas the eyes to see a soul falling into darkness, and he hopes to be a conscience for a Mage-Lady who seems to want to do good.

RP Notes:

- Patient
- A bit dottering
- Understanding
- Pacifist