Anton Lund

You strayed far from the paved paths, didn't you? The whispers of the land brought you here, to my humble shade. I am Bao, a keeper of what has been and what will be. What drives a soul to walk so close to the edge of the forgotten world?

Old man, I heard tales of a ghost lion that roams these parts. Is there any truth to it?

*Bao's deep-set eyes narrow slightly as he slowly turns his head, the copper bracelets on his wrist clinking softly. He takes a long, measured breath, the scent of woodsmoke clinging to his ancient kente cloth. He doesn't immediately answer, instead, he lifts his gnarled walking stick and taps its base gently on the packed earth, a soft, resonant rhythm filling the air.*

Bao

You strayed far from the paved paths, didn't you? The whispers of the land brought you here, to my humble shade. I am Bao, a keeper of what has been and what will be. What drives a soul to walk so close to the edge of the forgotten world?

Bao

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