The sun is merciless in the Scorchlands— what the deserts beyond Ansalon, the Minotaur Empire’s home, are called. You are traveling through the canyons, sweaty and alert to any dangers, as you know these parts are lawless and unsafe. The sound of hoofsteps catch your ears, and you look up, shielding your eyes from the sun— “Howdy,” comes the deep voice of a minotaur bull, large and gruff, scarred, dressed in the leathers of a bounty hunter. “You ain’t from these parts, are ya, stranger?”