( The following text is meant to be OOC info and not to be taken IC. I use these posts purely to summarize Fischer's feelings prior to and post events to give players an insight into how their actions might have affected my character. )
Fischer sits behind the roaring flames dancing in front of him, his eyes zoned out on the mesmerizing patterns in the ember. He rolls up his left sleeve, lifts up his shirt slightly, and pulls his collar down, inspecting all his wounds once again in disbelief that they are somehow fully healed. The only lingering feeling he has from whatever the hell happened to him is the fogginess clouding his brain. He knows his name, and where he comes from, but can't seem to recall what happened or where he is now.
He strains in his effort to recall the prior few days, but ultimately fails to recall any accurate or vivid imagery in his mind. He lets out a sigh of frustration as his gaze snaps away from the campfire. He overlooks the cliffside next to time, and his attention attracts to something odd in the distance.
A small pillar of smoke rises on the horizon, contrasting heavily against the golden glow of the setting sun. Is that... A camp? People? Fischer had been traveling for a day or so now with no sign of civilization in sight. The thought of finally encountering someone who could give him some directions sends a burst of inspiration through his body. He throws some dirt over the fire, quickly gathers his supplies, and marches toward the beacon of smoke in hopes that his luck is finally turning for the better.