Ime of the Narrow Bridge

Ime of the Narrow Bridge never learned a single spell nor lifted a sword in anger. They were a trader, plain and simple, trying to move goods between two stubborn wizard enclaves in The Crystal Highlands of Armaria. The chasm between the spires was too wide, the bad blood too deep. So, while the mages feuded, Ime built. For a year, they hauled lumber and rope, their old pilot helmet their only shield against the arcane winds. A stray energy bolt from a miscast spell left a permanent mark on their face, but the work never stopped. When it was done, the bridge wasn't grand. It was narrow, swaying gently. But it was enough. Food, medicine, and eventually, conversation began to cross. Their work reminds many of Shimo—not for freezing things in time, but for preserving the oldest way of all: simply connecting one person to another.