Sylthari Mist'kal

Sylthari Mist’kal wears a dove-gray hood even indoors, the hem stitched with pale runes that look like fog when the light hits them. A cleric’s chain crosses their chest, links dented from tugging it free of thorny brush during patrols. Their voice goes soft to name the sick, then sharp to order triage. When they pray, they blot ink-dark steam from a vial onto their palm—always before helping anyone else.