…It wasn’t until the night before my departure from Argonia that Jeetum-Ja, one of the tribal elders, finally shared my story: I groaned inwardly… what in the name of the Hist had I done? These stories are shared frequently in large gatherings and tend to follow you the rest of your life (and possibly into the next one).
Because you remember so little, the elders relish the opportunity to share embarrassing anecdotes that occurred while under the sap’s sway. First exposure to Hist sap is an overwhelming experience and leaves events… hazy. But as I looked at the elders around me I detected faint traces of amused, ironic, and knowing smiles-never a good sign. You would never be able to pronounce it, but the Cyrodilic equivalent of my name is ‘Heals-Hurts.’ It makes sense… it’s what I do. So I was hardly surprised as I sat among my hatch-mates on our day of naming when the tribal elders gave me mine.
I didn’t choose to be a healer it’s just who I am. Perhaps this is why I have always felt compelled to share my gift. Just as the roots of the Hist are all interconnected, so also are all living things-the suffering of one sends out ripples that affect many.
Before adding a bug to this list, consider the following: This section contains bugs related to Healing Hands (Skyrim).
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