[i]”Woe betide those who ignore my warnings! The old Witch of the Sea casts her lofty gaze upon us mere denizens below! Her dark patron, whose name shall ne’er be uttered, shall bring the cities of this world crashing down! Stone shall not sit upon stone! Fields shall be salted!”[/i]

The dragonborn droned on for a few minutes before being stopped by the tiefling. Her mannerisms were, to an untrained eye, those of a lover or at least a love interest, but the look on the dragonborn’s face was far from subtle as he stopped his message and turned towards her. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but I’m working here,” he whispered hoarsely, sending an unconvincing grin and a nod back towards the crowd. 

With a harrumph and a clearing of his throat, the dragonborn raised his voice again. [i]“Lo, the sea witch has sent her messenger even now! I must attend to other duties. Beware the enemies of the world who seek to bring Bourgund to her knees!”[/i] The crowd began to disperse as the dragonborn stepped down from the wooden crate that had elevated him slightly and turned to face those who remained.

“Fine. You all owe me big time for this,” he growled, his voice holding none of the lilting sounds of his apocalyptic message. “The name’s Jakaar. I’m just passing on a message like I was told. I’ll give you five minutes before I set up again. Any more, and I lose out on my five gold today.”