Koris

“Did someone say sick?” He asks as he makes his approach, His healer’s robes are well used and do little to hide his Elven appearance. His heavy bag slung over his shoulder as he makes his way to the group.

“Terribly sorry about being late… I had a few things I had to take care of before arriving.” He apologizes as he straightens out his clothes. An odd silver bauble hangs from his neck, it looks like a pentacle with an Eye emblazoned on it. Those familiar with the Arcane or Divine arts recognize it as a silver Holy Symbol of Baccob, the Uncaring. His deep hazel hair is a bit untidy, but tied back. His eyes tell of the far off forest, deep and verdant as he gazes around.