You're questioning me? The great sea-mistress Lilly Roth, about how she so happened to find you, failing at drowning, on some godforsaken fleshy piece of land?
Thought it'd be obvious. Grandfather and I, we came to thank you for our little reunion here, you started. Caught wind that you were playing around up here with that dead beast from the locals.
So we followed yer trail, dreaden we'd be findn' yer body bits strewn all over this godforsaken mountain. But lo and behold, what do we get? Our favourite exile, twiddling their thumbs.
Yer lucky ol' Weylam's still got some thaumaturgical prowess in his bones. How the hell did you end up here anyhow?