Zakara awoke with a sudden fright, his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. He was in a long stretch of mountainous tunnel. This was the highway that cut straight through the Ashblood mountains between Nyr, and Nyriddia. Legend speaks of a powerful wizard that made this passageway aeons ago before the first blight, when the world was beset by the ire of the God named Wrath, Lord of Swords. At long last you finally saw a bit of daylight far ahead. Running towards it, you emerge out of the long tunnel at long last.
You see a road that winds through a lush, emerald green realm drastically unlike anything you’ve ever quite seen before. The exact opposite of the harsh, inhospitable climate of Nyriddia. This was a land of beautiful pastures, charming towns, bustling city-states, and sun drenched vineyards, farmlands, and orchards.
Ahead, alongside the road is a small encampment where several men stood. They were dressed in robes, unarmored and a few of them had either a dagger or a metallic rod. A parked caged wagon was full of chickens, tethered to two work horses. The smell of bacon, coffee intermingled with horse manure stabbed at your noses. When you drew closer, the first of the men thin and gaunt faced stood up and told the others: “Wait here, I’ll go fetch some water after I take a huge shit. That bottle of Elsmyrian brandy has my name on it”
What do you do?