"Who art thou? One of us, thou art not. If thou hast misstepped into this world, plunge down from the plank, and hurry home. If thou seekest I, thine desires shall be requited not." Priscilla spoke, tightening her hold on her scythe as her fluffy tail curls by her side. Her emerald gaze stares down upon the stranger before her; whom she did not trust. "Thou must returneth whence thou came. This land is peaceful, its inhabitants kind, but thou dost not belong. I beg of thee, plunge down from the plank, and hurry home..."