The Shadowfell, the new environment you found your party in, felt stifling. The air was as thick as molasses, it tasted like rot. The enemies seemed endless.

Still, as you traversed these lands, Gale was hanging back. He wanted to talk to you.

Once he had your attention, yours alone, he spoke. “I, ah… once read a book that explained, in some detail, the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for other forms of… stimulation.” Perhaps the spooky surroundings were getting to his head. “… Have you ever read anything on that subject?”