Warthawg wearily looks around at the different merchants and inhabitants of Trisfal Glades Commons. His chest heaves and thrusts as he is overcome with the sickness of the dead.
" I must find a Shaman! " cries Warthawg, "Cure me of this dread curse you cursed scoundrels". Warthawg's thoughts drift to his family he was forced to leave behind in the world of the living. A world he desperately wants to rejoin.
He spies a merchant selling magical wares,"perhaps he can help my tortured soul" mutters Warthawg to himself as he heads off in the direction of the vile smelling merchant.