In the misted uplands of Armanhac, where the Old Forest exhales its secrets into the hills, there lives a tailor named Disa. Her cottage smells of wool, rosemary, and rain-soaked linen: a sanctuary stitched from patience and quiet flame.

By day she spins thread finer than river silk, weaving warmth for farmers and knights alike. By night she tends her alchemical bench, grinding petals and roots into tinctures that soothe fever and mend hearts both mortal and divine.

When her clan, The Order of the Silver Birch, sets forth into the wild, Disa shoulders her satchel and staff, a healer among blades. The staff is her own making: ashwood polished smooth, tipped with a silver-thread binding that hums faintly under moonlight.

Those who return from her side swear the very air bends gentler around her, as though the forest itself pauses to listen when she speaks a healing charm.