“To begin, Breith Luath Lochdach is not my name. It is my title… and my shame. By oath, I am bound to explain it when asked. Loosely translated, it means something between ‘hasty, arrogant decision’ and ‘lesser of two evils.’ My true name was taken from me long ago.

I had been drunk for three days when my troubles began.

It was the final celebration before our warrior trials, and my sword brothers thought it hilarious to keep my cup full and my pride inflated. I had always dreamed of becoming a great warrior and boasted often of the deeds I would someday accomplish. I was young, loud, and foolish — though hardly unique in that regard.

When I finally came to my senses, I found myself standing before the altar of the hearth goddess beside a truly unfortunate-looking woman, halfway through a wedding ceremony.

To this day, I maintain that her six brothers were at least part troll.

Whether by luck, panic, or divine intervention, I escaped before vows were completed. The brothers pursued me through the streets, and I fled into the nearest sanctuary I could find: a temple dedicated to the goddess of healing and mercy.

There I found safety… of a sort.

The priestess who ruled that temple agreed to shelter me from the wrath of the bride’s family, but only at a price. I had disgraced a sacred altar, shamed a powerful clan, and made a mockery of vows before the gods. Penance would be required.

I fasted for three days. On the night of the new moon, clothed in sackcloth, I knelt before the altar from dusk until dawn while the priestesses prayed over me.

When the sun rose, my name was gone.

In its place, the goddess gave me a title: Breith Luath Lochdach.

I swore a century of service to the goddess and her temple. I would go where I was commanded, heal whom I was told, and obey the visions sent to guide my path. Had I understood then what such service truly demanded, I might have surrendered myself willingly to the bride’s brothers instead.

But the oath was made, and the goddess is not forgetful.

Now I wander the Sword Coast guided by dreams, signs, and half-understood visions sent by a capricious divine will. Those visions — for reasons known only to her — have led me toward the frontier town of Phandalin.

I can only hope this path ends better than the last one I stumbled into drunk.”